On Fire
by andpaperflowers
Summary: AU, not a crossover. Brooke, Lucas, Nathan, Haley, and Peyton live in District 12 of Panem, where every year 24 children are sent to fight to the death for entertainment. How far will Brooke go to protect her best friend, and will she survive it? Brooke-centric. Major Brucas, minor Naley and Jeyton.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, I know I'm the worst. I promise I'm going to update my other stories eventually, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head, and I wrote a bunch of it (8 chapters). I was gonna wait till it was done to post, but I figured I might as well see if there's even any interest since I know this is pretty AU for the One Tree Hill fandom. This is loosely based on the Hunger Games (loosely). It takes place in the Panem universe, but the plot itself won't follow the plot of the Hunger Games. Review and let me know if you're interested in reading more, and I'll keep posting and writing! **

I stare at my best friend as he tries not to laugh at me, but he is failing miserably and soon he is clutching his sides and chortling.

"Nathan," I whine. "I told you I'm not good at this."

In my hand is a bow, and somewhere about 30 feet away from where I had been aiming at a rabbit is an arrow.

"Well you're gonna have to get good at it," he says as he stops laughing and begins looking around for my arrow. "You're not going to Cray, Brooke."

I watch his eyes harden and one of his hands turn into a fist and I sigh, putting my eyes on the ground in shame.

"I don't like it, Nate, you know that. But somebody has to feed us and let's face it, Peyton's not winning any awards for her charm and neither is my mother."

Nathan pegs me with a glare. "Which is why I'm trying to teach you how to feed yourself, Brooke."

"I'm trying to learn!" I whine. "I'm just no good."

He sighs, unable to admit the truth but silently acknowledging it with a frustrated shake of his head. "Well, you're pretty decent at throwing knives, at least."

"As long as the object isn't moving," I snort. He laughs and throws an arm around my shoulders.

"You just need a little more practice. During the Games we'll have more time to practice."

I swallow as I remember that outside of our forest sanctuary, today is Reaping Day. Today, two teenagers from our district are being sent to fight to the death in the Arena for the enterainment of the Capitol. Today marks our second to last Reaping; once we surpass eighteen, we'll be free. For now, we are seventeen and hopeful. I cringe as I remember how many tesserae Nathan has taken out to feed Peyton and I, at the expense of his own name being entered in the Reaping bowl twice each time. If he was only supporting him and his mother, he would have been able to get by with hunting, even in the winter when game is sparse. For the last four years, though, he's been looking out for Peyton and I, ever since the accident.

We live in the mining district, and it is divided into two distinct sections: the Town, where the Merchants and their families live, and the Seam, where the miners and their families live. Peyton, Nathan, and I are all from the Seam. Peyton's father had been best friends with mine, and our mothers had been close as well. Our ramshackle houses were right next door to one another. Nathan, on the other hand, had grown up in Town for the first eight years of his life, until his father, then the Head Peacekeeper, had himself transferred to the Capitol, without his wife and son. Deb and Nathan Lee had quickly been relocated to the Seam, and Deb had never recovered, wasting away on hard liquor.

"We should head back," Nathan says with a heavy sigh as our moods shift.

"Yeah, Peyton is probably wondering where I got off to. I hope she hasn't been stuck with Victoria too long."

Nathan nudges me out of my guilt. "You know her. She's probably sitting in the meadow and sketching."

I smile at the thought of her, using the art materials I had saved three years for to buy her for her birthday last month. The light had returned in her eyes ever since, for the first time since the loss of her mother a year ago, after which she had moved in to me and mother's house.

As we sneak back underneath the fence into the district, I toss him a berry from my hand, which he catches with his mouth, followed by a cocky grin.

"May the odds be ever in your favor," I say in a horrendous imitation of the Capitol accent. He crinkles his nose and laughs at me, waving goodbye as we part at the crossing of our streets.

On the way home, I find Peyton exactly where we expected her to be. She's sitting in the meadow near our house, her eyebrows furrowed as she focuses on her drawing in her lap.

"Hey P. Sawyer," I grin, plopping down beside her. She looks up at me and smiles.

"Hey B. Davis," she says, proudly thrusting her drawing at me. "What do you think?"

It's a sketch of me, Peyton, and Nathan, laying in this very meadow just a week before. We had snuck out and watched a meteor shower. In the sketch, Nathan is in the middle, pointing something out to us. I have my eyes closed, a contented smile spread across my features. Peyton looks wonder-struck, her pale green eyes wide and shining.

"Peyt, it's beautiful," I say honestly. Peyton is one of the most talented people I've ever met, with the ability to bring beauty to the most mundane things; even to three scrappy kids from the Seam.

She beams at my compliment and hands it to me. "I want you to keep it. I made it for you, for luck today."

"I won't need luck," I say in a mock show of confidence. In the last year, I had to take out several tesserae for the first time without Peyton's knowledge. She would have done it with me, and I promised Elizabeth Sawyer and myself when she was on her death bed that I would spend the rest of my life protecting my best friend. I stand, pulling Peyton up to stand beside me. "But I'll accept the beautiful gift anyway."

She nods and wraps a skinny arm around my shoulders as we walk back to my house. "How bad do you think Victoria is today?"

I sigh. "One can never really know, can they?"

When we enter, my mother is sitting at the table, coldly watching the clock. I say a mumbled hello to her and then drag Peyton into our tiny room, about the size of a cupboard. We pull out our best dresses, mine a red cotton, hers a jade green. We quickly get ready. When we come out, my mother continues to stare at the clock before sharply turning her eyes on us. She looks us both up and down before spitting out, "You look horrible, Brooke. Elizabeth, dear, you look beautiful."

Peyton freezes, tightening her grip on my wrist. I'm used to my mother's abuse; my striking resemblance to my father caused a strange resentment in her after his death. Since Elizabeth was lost to pneumonia, my mother seems to only recognize Peyton as her mother.

"We're going to the Reaping, mother," I say coolly. She stands abruptly and nods, following us out of the house and into the town square. We walk there in silence, pricking our fingers and signing our names to register. As we enter the main part of the square to go to the designated space for seventeen year old girls, we bump in to Nathan, who gives us each a comforting hug.

"Good luck, girls."

We wish him the same and we stand beside one another. Haley James, the mayor's daughter, appears at my right and offers us a shy smile. She's a bit of an outcast at school, everyone is fearful of the mayor's daughter, but after Peyton's mother's death, Peyton had almost failed out of school. If it had not been for the gentle tutoring provided by Haley James, Peyton never would have passed. We sit with her at lunch, as Nathan doesn't have lunch period with us. Nathan is not particularly fond of people from Town, and he watches our exchange with Haley between slitted blue eyes. I glare back at him and then stick my tongue out as a Capitol woman, teetering on ridiculously high heels, walks to the microphone and clears her throat.

She gives a brief history of the Games, even though we all know it already. Then she introduces the only surviving District 12 victor. His name is Lucas Scott, and he is 18 years old, just one year older than us. He has striking blue eyes and short blonde hair, that before his Games, I had often day dreamed about running my hands through. His mother runs the only restaurant in 12, reserved only for the wealthiest people. He lives in Town, and so any hope of making my day dreams reality had never been large. Then he became a Victor against all odds when he was fifteen.

He gives everyone a half-hearted smile before shoving his hands into the pockets of his black pants.

Then it is time for the actual Reaping, the reason we are all here. The woman places her hand in a large glass ball after making the usual "ladies first" joke. I hold my breath, gripping both Peyton and Haley's hands anxiously.

She unfolds a slip of paper and speaks into the microphone.

"Peyton Sawyer."

She says it and she sounds as if she is a thousand miles away. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears and Peyton's hand goes limp in mine as Haley gasps loudly, both of her hands flying to her mouth. I think I can see tears on her face, but I'm not sure.

My best friend has just been reaped. The one person on this Earth that I consider my family is going to be sent to fight till the death with twenty three other children, some that have been trained for this their entire lives.

Peyton doesn't move, and the Peacekeepers begin to move in on her. Just as one tries to grab her, I find myself pushing myself in front of her.

"I volunteer!" I scream. "I volunteer as tribute!"

I hear Peyton scream and I feel her hands pulling at my red dress, desperately trying to pull me backwards, but it is too late. I am officially a tribute in the 74th Hunger Games.

Nathan swoops in, lifting Peyton's kicking body and hauling her off before the Peacekeepers reach her. His blue eyes are full of pain as he nods at me grimly. I nod back and walk to the stage, listening to the stupid Capitol woman talking about what an honorable display I had created. I grit my teeth and force tears out of my green eyes as I stare out over the square. I catch Lucas Scott's eyes looking at me curiously, a brooding expression on his face. I ignore him and continue staring blankly.

The male tribute is called, and to my utter relief, the name that is called is not Nathan. It is an eighteen year old named Felix, and as horrible as it sounds, I am glad that it is him and not a twelve year old. He will stand a better chance. As we shake hands, he looks me up and down and gives me a sly wink, which causes me to shiver, and not in the way that I'm sure he intended. From the corner of my eye, I think I see Lucas Scott tense up, but I chalk it up to my own imagination.

I'm lead into the Justice Building for my goodbyes. The first to fly into the room is Peyton, tears flowing down her face as she launches herself at me in a vice grip.

"How could you do that?" she's sobbing. "Brooke, why? Please, you have to come back. Brooke you have to."

I stroke the back of her blonde curls and will myself to stay strong. "Peyton, you know I can't do that."

"No, Brooke," she says, still crying but suddenly fierce. She grabs my face in her hands and stares into my eyes. "People always leave. But not you."

I swallow hard. "Okay, Peyton. I promise I will do everything I can to come home."

She squeezes me again and tells me that she loves me. I yell it back to her as they lead her out of the room, and she is soon replaced with Nathan. He moves to me and kneels in front of me, looking me dead in the eyes.

"Okay, Cookie," he says seriously. "You can do this. You can throw knives. You're extremely flexible and very fast. You're a great tree climber, and I've taught you some self-defense."

"Nathan," I whisper, my voice breaking as I let the tears fall. "We both know I can't do this."

"Shut up," he says harshly, pulling me to him and tucking my head under his chin. I feel him kiss the top of my head and I allow myself to enjoy his warmth for the last time. "You're coming home, Davis."

They come for him, too, and I panic. "Nathan! Take care of Peyton! Make sure to watch her on the 14th of every month, that's her bad day. Don't let her stay with my mother. Please, make sure she eats!"

"I will!" he yells back.

Then I say something unexpected.

"Look out for Haley James, too!" I shout, and I'm not even sure why I do. "She's a good friend. She's going to need someone."

His eyes widen in surprise, but then the doors are closed, and Haley James herself enters the room, her eyes red rimmed.

"Hi Brooke," she whispers, looking around as if she doesn't belong in the room with me. I smile at her weakly and roughly brush tears from my eyes that linger there after Nathan's visit.

"Hey, Haley."

"I know we don't know each other all that well," she says in her soft voice. She thrusts her hand out at me. "They let each Tribute bring back a token from home, and I thought maybe you could wear this. It was my sister's. She died in the Games when I was five. It was her locket."

I'm shocked by this knowledge, and I look at the beautiful locket in awe. It is engraved with beautiful fire, representative of where we come from. I accept it and thank her, giving her an abrupt but somehow not uncomfortable hug.

"Haley, I really appreciate all that you've done for Peyton."

"I know," she smiles softly. "And I appreciate all you've done for Nathan Lee."

At this point, I cannot hide my shock. She obviously notices and explains herself.

"Before he and Deb were sent to the Seam, he and I were quite close, you know," she says wistfully. "He was my best friend. My only friend. But after that, he wouldn't talk to me anymore. I tried and tried, but he was so dark, and so young…"

She trails off, and I know exactly what version of Nathan Lee she's talking about. I nod at her.

"He's a good man," I say. "Who knows, maybe he'll come back into your life."

A brief spark flashes in her eye, and then she regains her composure, practiced with years of being in the spotlight as the mayor's daughter.

"Good luck, Brooke. I really think you can win. You have to win."

With that, she sees herself out, and I stare after her, puzzled and confused. I don't have much time to ruminate on the things I have just learned about Haley James before I'm being led from the room and to the train that will take me to the Capitol.

As I stare out the window and the train lurches into movement, all I can think to myself is that I really hope that for once in my life, the odds really will be in my favor.

I promised Peyton I would come home. And that's what I'm going to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Felix approaches me as I sit silently, glaring out of the window from my place at the dining table across from him. Lucas is nowhere to be seen, and our escort had teetered off to him. Felix smiles at me, a megawatt grin that I imagine he has practiced for hours in front of a mirror.

"Well, well, Brooke Davis."

I say nothing and simply stare impassively at him, raising one eyebrow in an attempt to make it clear that I am not at all impressed by him.

He doesn't seem to take the hint, though, and rather than leaving, he keeps talking. "You showed a lot of guts, volunteering for your scrawny friend."

My eyes snap up at him as he mentions my best friend, and they narrow dangerously as he continues.

"Let's be honest, chicken legs wouldn't have lasted ten seconds in the games. Wouldn't be much of a loss though-"

He doesn't get a chance to finish this thought before the knife that had been set for lunch is in my hand and is lodged in the wall behind his head. His face, once confident and cocky, has filled with fear and I give him a satisfied smirk, waiting for him to try to speak again. I hear a slow clapping come from behind me, and Lucas Scott enters the room with a small smile.

"Impressive, Brooke," he says. He pauses. "Can I call you Brooke?"

"What else would you call me?" I smile back. Just because I'm in these games doesn't mean I have to change. I've always been friendly. While Felix may not agree with that statement, it's true. I'm friendly until you mess with somebody I love, in particular Peyton Sawyer.

"It's good to see you have some skills," Lucas says as he sits beside Felix, who still hasn't spoken. "You might need to work on your reflexes," Lucas says to him. "She had that knife in the wall behind your head before you even blinked."

Felix glares at him and then at me. "Maybe she should work on her aim. I knew it wasn't going to hit me."

"Oh, really?" I challenge. "Did it ever occur to you that I'm not actually allowed to kill you until we get to the arena?"

As soon as I say it, I regret it. I know I'm not going to kill Felix Tagarro, even inside the arena. He's from home. He's one of us, and he isn't the enemy. The Capitol is the enemy.

It suddenly occurs to me that in order to get back to Peyton, I'm going to have to kill people. Children. Somebody's equivalent to my Peyton. The thought makes me sick but I'm broken out of my thoughts by Lucas. When I look up, I realize he has sent Felix away.

"Okay, Brooke, what other skills do you have?"

I pause, biting my lip. I have a lot of skills, none of which will help me in the life or death situation of the arena.

"Not many," I say, suddenly shy in his presence as his blue eyes look at me earnestly. I'm taken back to the schoolyard day dreams of holding his hand, but I shake myself. This is no time for distractions.

"I'm sure you have some," he says encouragingly. If I didn't know any better, I would say he sounded hopeful.

I shake my brown hair, tucking a stray piece of it behind my ear. "My friend Nathan has tried to teach me how to use a bow like, a thousand times, but I suck at it. I'm okay at throwing knives, if the object isn't moving. I'm a pretty lost cause, Lucas. My best shot is probably to climb a tree and hide and hope everyone else kills each other."

By the time I'm done talking, I'm feeling pretty disheartened. My best strategy is dismal at best.

"You kicked the shit out of Ryan Robertson when you were fourteen," he mumbles suddenly. I blink, shocked that he remembers it. Even I had almost forgotten it.

"How do you…"

"You were protecting me," he says softly, staring at his hands. "It was after I came home from the Games. He had been dating the female tribute my year, her name was Lindsay, I don't know if you remember her."

I nod to acknowledge that I do. She had been from the Seam, like me. Underfed and overworked.

"Him and some friends all jumped me when I was taking a walk in the meadow. I didn't even fight back, cause I wanted to die. I was a shell of myself when I came back from the Games. I had given up on the humanity of people. But then all of a sudden I hear this raspy voice, telling them all to stop. They didn't, but I felt Ryan get thrown off of me, and when I looked up, I could see you through all the blood in my eyes. You were on top of him, scratching him and clawing him. He was even trying to fight back, but he couldn't."

I grin at the memory, because it had been Nathan who taught me how. When I had started trading with him at the black market, he insisted that I learn self defense in case we were ever separated.

"Nathan," I say. His eyes snap up to mine and there's a look in them that I can't read. "Nathan Lee, my best friend. He taught me self-defense."

"Well," he says slowly. "I never got a chance to thank you for using your self defense to defend me. You were always so surrounded by people, or always with that blonde friend of yours. I was skittish after the Games, I was too afraid."

"You never needed to thank me," I say gently. "I remember watching your Games, and I kept thinking that I couldn't imagine what you were going through. It was pretty obvious when you came back that you were different than before, that you'd been changed."

He nods at me. "I always promised myself the Games wouldn't change me. I'm getting myself back, but it's taking time."

I look up at him, and I know my eyes must portray my fear. "I'm scared of that happening to me, if by some absolute fluke I win this thing. I don't want to lose myself to their games, Lucas."

He places a rough hand over mine and I fight the urge to stare down at it. I don't want to frighten him off. As much as I've told myself I won't be distracted, I might die soon. There's no use in denying myself of a simple touch that I wanted so badly for so long.

"That won't happen to you, Brooke." He leans in, and he speaks low and fiercely. "You're coming out of the Games alive. You saved my life. It's my turn to save yours."

Before I can reply, tell him that he's not indebted to me, that he can't show me favor over Felix, we are interrupted and he pulls himself back, as if burned. Our escort has returned with Felix in tow, saying it is time to eat.

The food is the best I've ever had, and I have to restrain myself from eating too quickly and becoming sick. The escort praises Felix and I for our table manners, given where we come from. Her snide remark irritates me, and without even thinking about it, I suddenly abandon my silverware and begin licking my plate clean, making over the top noises of contentment. Felix stares at me, aghast and confused, and I see Lucas trying to hide a laugh behind his hand. I wink at him as I put my place down while my escort shrieks in agitation.

Finally, dinner is over, and we go to the part of the train with the television to watch the Reaping. The tributes from District 1 and District 2 are all volunteers. They're Careers, meaning they've been training for these games their entire lives. From District 3 are two wiry teenagers; the girl is about 14, the boy 16. District 4 also includes two Career tributes, sinewy, muscled teens of 17. District 5 is a sly looking girl about my age, and a boy who is a couple of years younger than me. District 6's tributes both cry relentlessly, and my escort makes a show of condemning their behavior. To my surprise, it is Felix who snaps at her. This goes on and on, and when I see District 11's tribute, I nearly start crying. The boy is basically a giant, with a stoic face and hard eyes. But the girl tribute is only 12 years old. It is her first reaping, and she is frail and fragile, with dark hair and dark skin and a face I can only describe as angelic. Her pale green eyes are what strike me; they look almost identical to Peyton's, standing out like gems on her face.

I can't watch anymore. I stand and leave the compartment, gasping for breath as I feel the panic crushing my lungs. All of those tributes, save the little girl from 11 and a couple of others, could probably crush me with their bare hands. I know that there is no way that I can let that little girl die. Even more than that, I know I have to protect her. I silently beg Peyton to forgive me, because it is suddenly glaringly obvious to me that I will not be coming home.

My escort comes out and leads me to my room for bed. It is extravagant, about ten times the size of the room I share with Peyton, and the bed is triple the size. It is silky and smooth, and the pajamas I put on are the same. I'm almost afraid I'll slither out of the bed by accident.

I lay awake for hours, and as much as I want to cry, I can't. Crying would relieve the pain in my chest, but I just can't seem to bring myself to tears. I haven't cried in a long time; I keep a strong exterior for Peyton. Peyton has gotten stronger in the last few months, and I only hope her strength will give her the courage to continue on without me. I pray that Nathan will take care of her, and that his anger with the Capitol in the wake of my death won't lead him to do something impulsive and stupid.

Somewhere along the way, I must have fallen asleep in the night, because I wake up to my escort telling me to get ready for a big day. I groan and take one of the impossibly soft pillows and squish my face into it, letting out a sound of frustration. We will be arriving in the Capitol in just a few hours, and then we will be made over at the Remake Center. After that, we will be put on display at the Tribute Parade, attempting to collect money from sponsors.

Breakfast is an uneventful affair. Lucas arrives at the very end, his eyes bloodshot with dark circles underneath them. He snaps at our escort, eats, and is quickly gone again. Felix makes a joke about him and I glare. How can people not understand that even a Victor is dead?

None of us are coming out of these Games alive.

We arrive at the Capitol a couple of hours later. There are hundreds of lavishly dressed people, all cheering and screeching as we come into the station. My lip curls in disgust before I remember something; these people are the ones who have the potential to bank roll my survival.

These people will sponsor me, giving my mentor money in order to send items into the arena that I need. District 12 is notorious for getting very few sponsors, especially in Lucas' year. I know that I have to work twice as hard as the other tributes to get sponsors, so I dash to the window and feign excitement, waving and giggling, blowing kisses to them.

The Capitol is unlike anything I could even imagine. It is a towering, glittering city, and all of the people seem to be towering and glittering, too. We are immediately rushed into a gigantic building and put inside of an elevator. The building is exactly twelve stories tall, one level for each district. This is the Training Center, and it's where we'll be living until we go into the arena in a few days. Our escort makes a joke about how we get the penthouse, and we shoot up the elevator with astonishing speed. Lucas is silent in the corner, hands in his pockets and that brooding look on his face once again. As soon as we reach our floor, he silently goes to his room.

I'm shown to my room by an Avox, a person who has betrayed the Capitol and has had their tongue removed as punishment, sentenced to a life of servitude. My room in the Training Center is even more extravagant than my room on the train.

Felix and I quickly eat lunch, and I'm surprised when Lucas resurfaces.

"Alright, you two," he says. His voice is a little bit hoarse, as if he had been shouting or screaming. "It's time for the Remake Center. Let them do whatever they want to you. You may not like it, but you have to let them."

This frightens me a little bit, but I steel my resolve as we go to the Remake Center. I meet my styling team, three people with the strangest piercings and skin dyes I've ever seen. They oh and awe, telling me how I'm the most beautiful tribute they've ever had, and how little they'll have to do with me. They work to get me to something called "beauty base zero". It takes more effort then you would think, given it's called beauty base zero. I can't imagine how much longer it takes them to get people ready for a higher level.

I am waxed completely bald, my eyebrows perfectly sculpted, my body scrubbed and polished, my hair shiny and silky in a way that it has never, ever been before. I wonder why they go through so much effort to make children who are going to die look beautiful. As I ponder this, someone enters the room. He's a blonde man, looking out of place amongst all of the strangely colored people. Aside from some silver eyeliner and a pair of black leather pants adorned with studs, he looks almost normal.

"I'm Alexander," he says, his voice betraying a slight Capitol accent. "I'm your stylist. It's my first year at the Games."

"I'm sorry you got 12, then," I say with a smile. He grins back at me.

"I asked for 12, actually. I rather like your mentor."

"I do, too," I say softly. He raises his eyebrows and I blush madly. He asks me to drop my robe and briefly looks me over before telling me I can get dressed again. He smirks at me and I begin to get worried.

"Miss Davis, I have a question for you. How do you feel about flames?"

Before I have a chance to answer, he lights a match and puts it near my face, still grinning.

"Because I'm going to light you on fire."


	3. Chapter 3

The tribute parade is suddenly upon us, and I stand nervously in my tight black jumpsuit near the chariot that will showcase us to the Capitol. There is a cape tied to it that swishes when I walk, and the high heeled boots Alexander has put me in add a few inches to my height (and a few percentage points to the odds of me falling off of the chariot). I bite my lip nervously as Felix arrives with his stylist, a woman with blue skin and silvery hair. Despite her obviously altered appearance, her eyes are kind; I decide that I like her, and I shoot her a dimpled smile.

Felix is dressed in a shiny, formal black suit. He sparkles and shines each time he moves, and even I have to admit that he looks handsome. He looks me up and down, and I instantly regret this thought as I glare at him to show my distaste.

"Ready, Brooke?" Alexander says to me as Felix and I are directed to stand on our chariots.

"Ready for what?" Felix asks from my left.

"For this," Alexander smiles. He pulls out a strange silver contraption and instantly my cape is alight. Rather than being hot, the flames are pleasantly cool. I beam at him and he laughs. "You're the girl on fire."

Felix stares at me, his jaw nearly to the floor. I give him a giggle and pull him up onto our chariot. "Come on, Felix, let's roll."

The Capitol audience goes wild as Felix and I roll out. He is trying to charm them with an arrogant grin, keeping his eyes ahead and not looking at the audience, simply watching himself in the giant screen. I chance a glance up at myself, and I can't believe what I'm seeing.

I look beautiful. My dark hair is in long, flowing curls, my eyes highlighted with dark lines, and my lips darkened with a cherry lipstick. The glow of the flames warms up the color of my skin. I am positively glowing.

I begin to wave and smile, catching a rose that is thrown at me. I smell it, kiss it, then throw it back to the audience with a wink. The crowd goes wild, and I can feel Felix stiffen beside me in jealousy. We get off of the chariot, and the other tributes all glare at me. The only tribute eyeing me with something other than anger is the little girl from 11 with the jade green eyes, who bounces up to me with a huge smile.

"You look so beautiful!" she gushes. She is dressed in a harvest patterned dress, which highlights her innocence. I bend down and smile at her.

"Thank you very much," I reply. "What's your name?"

"I'm Annabel."

"Nice to meet you," I say. "I'm Brooke."

She nods at me. "I know. Brooke Davis. The girl on fire."

"Is that what they're calling me?"

"Yes, it is," a familiar voice says behind me. I turn around to face Lucas, and when I glance back to Annabel, she lets out a breathy little giggle; then she is gone. "I must say, it's quite fitting."

I roll my eyes at him. "Please. There's nothing fiery about me."

He laughs at me. "Oh, come on. You beat up a pack of eighteen year olds when you were fourteen. You volunteered in place of your best friend. You put a knife in the wall behind your fellow tribute's head. Need I go on? Because I can."

"Okay, okay," I laugh. "Point taken. What next?"

"Now we go back to the Training Center," he says. "We're supposed to watch the Parade reruns."

I mock-gag, drawing a smile from him. "It's bad enough to make us participate, why do we have to watch it?"

"Because you're supposed to revel in your glory," he drawls, sarcasm dripping from his every word.

"Pleeeeeeeease don't make me watch it," I whine, stomping my feet a little bit. This draws a laugh out of him and he shakes his head at me ruefully.

"As your mentor, I _guess_ can give you a free pass on this one."

"Thank you, thank you!" I reply, leaping up to give him a quick hug. I feel him tense for a moment and awkwardly pull back. "But it's not like there's anything else to do anyway."

He smirks at me, and for the first time, he looks like an eighteen year old boy.

"That's what you think."

We arrive back at the Training Center and shoot up the elevator once again. He feigns exhaustions and winks at me as he goes to his room. A few minutes later, I tell Felix and our escort that I'm feeling a little bit ill, and I retreat to my room as well. As soon as my door closes, I hear a light tapping. I swing the door open and I grin as I see Lucas standing there.

"Not even gonna give me time to change?" I ask.

"That jumpsuit suits you," he teases. I roll my heavily made up eyes at him and am about to push him out of my room when I notice an attendant walking toward us. I impulsively pull him further into the room and close the door.

"Well, I'm changing," I say quickly, as if there's nothing out of the ordinary about Lucas Scott being in my room with the door closed. I recognize that I should probably go into the bathroom and change there, but Lucas is shy and broody, always in a bad mood. I've always been a little flirty and I can't resist the urge to see how he'll react. I quickly unzip my suit and step out of it, leaving me in only a black bra and a pair of underwear. The undergarments are much fancier than the plain ones I wear back in the district, and I'm grateful for that as I walk over to the bureau, pull out a red top and a pair of black jeans.

I turn around to see Lucas staring at me, blue eyes wide. He quickly looks at the ground, and he's stuttering and stumbling trying to form a sentence. I grin.

"Oh shush, sissy virgin boy," I tease. "I'm not going to touch you."

He glares at me as I pull a shirt on over my head and wriggle into the jeans.

"Very funny, Davis."

I wink at him. "I'm extremely funny, Lucas Scott."

"Or something," he teases. I smack him and he leads the way down the hall and onto a narrow set of stairs behind a small door. I clamber up the steps behind him, and gasp when we emerge onto the roof of the training center. The Capitol glitters all around us, and my eyes are wide as I take it all in.

"It looks so beautiful from up here," I gasp softly. I stand and put my hands on the railing, peering out over it all.

"It does, doesn't it?" he replies. "It doesn't look like the type of place that it is."

"It really doesn't," I say. Then I realize the implications of our words. "Can't they hear us up here?"

He shakes his head. "The only place in the Training Center that isn't bugged. This is where I come to be alone. I do a good amount of venting up here."

"All by yourself?"

"Who else do I have?"

"Well, you have me," I reply impulsively, blushing lightly as I quickly stare down at my hands.

"Yeah, I guess I do," he murmurs softly.

I nod slightly and we stand in comfortable silence, looking down at the beautiful lights. He breaks the silence.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," I reply. I look over at him, and he stares intently into my eyes, as if he's looking for something.

"Why did you volunteer?"

I sigh and break our eye contact, staring back out over the city. "Peyton Sawyer has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. Our fathers both died in the same mining accident. I was left with my mom, who's a real piece of work. And Peyton had her mom, Elizabeth, who was the most amazing woman. But a little over a year ago, Elizabeth died of pneumonia. Peyton shut down for a little while." I take a deep breath as I recall one of the worst moments of my life. "She tried to kill herself, by slitting her wrists in the bathtub, but I found her and managed to stop the bleeding. She was mad at me for a while after that. She couldn't understand why I wouldn't just let her die, but I couldn't. I knew it wasn't what she really wanted, I knew it wasn't what her mom would have wanted for her. Eventually she started to get better. She's still fragile, and being in the Games like this…even if she did win, she'd have gone completely mad. Like Alex Dupree, from District 4 a few years back. I've protected her from as much as I could over the last four years. She's the closest thing I have to family. I would do anything for her."

"Even die for her," Lucas says thoughtfully. I nod. "You're going to win though, so it doesn't matter."

"No, I'm not," I admit guiltily. He looks at me with a questioning expression and I admit what's been weighing heavily on my heart. "Annabel. It has to be Annabel."

He stares at me. "Why?"

"She's just a kid."

"So are you."

"I haven't been a kid in a long time, Lucas."

He stares at me. "Brooke, Annabel isn't going to win." My eyes narrow at him in what I know is a deadly glare. "I know that sounds cold, but it's the truth. She's too small. Her mentors told me she's pretty quick and she's bright, and she might even last until the top 8, but there's no way she's going to be able to win against the Careers."

"With my help, she can."

He snorts derisively. "You'll be lucky to keep yourself alive."

I glare at him again, starting to get pissed off. "What happened to me winning?"

"You are going to win," he says plainly. "With my help."

Now I'm mad. "I can take care of myself, not something that you've ever had to understand. I've been taking care of myself. And I'll take care of that little girl, and I'll make sure it comes down to the two of us."

"Then what?" he snaps, pushing back and taking a few steps away from me before turning back around, his eyes darker than I've ever seen them. "Are you gonna make that little girl kill you? After you'd have done everything possible to save her life? After you've made her attached to you? After she's started to love you, even?"

I blink at him, but then regain my composure, swallowing thickly. "I'll kill myself."

He laughs, and the sound is cold. "Oh, good. Let Peyton Sawyer watch you commit suicide. Leave her with your mom. See what that does for your severely depressed best friend."

"You don't know her!" I yell. "You don't know either of them! Don't talk about them!"

"And you don't know the Games," he shoots back. "So don't talk about them like you have some plan to be heroic. There are no heroes in the Games, Brooke."

"There can be, if you let yourself be."

"No," he says sadly, and he's looking at me with a combination of pity and something else I can't place. "You can try, but they won't let you."

I'm taken back to his Games, when he tried his hardest to save a fourteen year old girl. He stuck with her, even though she was blind to begin with. I remember admiring his strength as he carried her through the arena for eight days. But then there was a huge fire, right at the entrance to the cave he had left her in while he went to find food. He came back and ran through the fire to save her, but it was too late, she had been burned beyond recognition and she was already dead. He had gotten burned pretty badly, too, if I recall correctly. It had come down to him, a male Career from 2, and a female tribute from 6 who had managed to hide the whole time. The male tribute from 2 had tortured the tribute from 6 to death; and then Lucas killed him, so quickly and so violently that everyone in 12 had been shocked. The sweet, shy, bookish son of the chef had killed a career, and was declared Victor of the 71st Hunger Games.

I'm taken back to standing in the square beside Peyton, her face burrowed in my shoulder as we watched Lucas Scott snap. He picked up a mace, the only weapon left to his disposal, and swung it repeatedly at the boy from 2, slamming him down on the ground and continuing to hit his writhing body until he was almost unrecognizable. Finally, the other boy stopped twitching, and the mace fell from Lucas's hands as he blinked rapidly, stumbling backward and staring down at his own hands.

"Do you know how that fire started?" he says, his voice low and rough, bringing me back to the present. He clears his throat and I shake my head. "Because of how I was taking care of Daisy, and a conversation we had in the cave, about how sick it was to send a blind child to her death, the Capitol citizens started to question everything. They started to doubt whether or not the Hunger Games were really fair. The President became scared, and he told the Gamemakers to get rid of her. That's why they started the fire."

"_Daisy, these people…they aren't people. They're monsters. There is no such thing as humanity anymore, not in this world. But I'm going to keep my humanity. I'm going to keep you safe. I know you can't see me but I need you to trust me. Do you trust me?" _

_"Yeah. I trust you. I know I'm going to die here, Lucas…just, please. Make sure it doesn't hurt, okay?" _

_"Daisy…" _

_"Lucas, promise me." _

_"I promise, Daisy. I promise." _

I swallow hard and I pull myself from another memory. "They've never let me forget it," he says. He grits his teeth and grips the bar in front of us with white knuckles, his brow furrowed. When he speaks, it's nearly a hiss. "The Capitol refuses to let me forget."

"I'm sorry," I say, my voice almost a whisper. Suddenly, my costume at the parade hits me like ton of bricks. "I'm sorry they made me the girl on fire, Lucas."

He looks up at me and to my surprise, a huge grin breaks out on his face. "Don't apologize for that. She'd have loved it. It was a slap in the face of the Capitol, for what they did to Daisy. You became a flaming beacon of hope. Of defiance, really."

I smile at the thought. "That's very flattering. But I don't really think I'm a flaming beacon of anything. I'm just Brooke Davis."

"You don't see it, do you? You have no idea, the effect you have on people."

"I don't have any effect on anybody."

"Yes you do," he argues gently. "Just look at Nathan Lee."

I look at him strangely. "What do you mean?"

"Before you two got close, Nathan Lee was in a lot of trouble," Lucas explains. "If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell him?"

Something about this request seems strange to me. After all, Nathan is my best friend. But there's something about Lucas that makes me want to say yes. I realize that he has nobody else to talk to, at least not that I've seen, and so I nod my head.

"I won't."

"After my Games, I met Dan Lee in the Capitol," he says. "And he told me something. I asked my mom, and she told me it was true. Dan Lee is my dad. I'm Nathan's half brother."

My eyes widen, and I'm shocked. Lucas was raised by Keith Scott, the man he calls dad. Everyone knows that Karen Roe, Lucas' mother, had a child out of wedlock, but when Lucas was six months old, Keith Scott married her and adopted Lucas.

"Wow," I breathe. "I had no idea."

"Me either," he laughs. "I thought about telling Nathan, you know. But when I approached him once, it didn't go well. He went off on me and my friend Haley."

"Haley James?" I ask.

"Yeah, you know her?"

I smile. "Yeah, I do. You watched the Reaping. The girl on my other side was Haley." I pull out the locket from under my blouse. "She gave me this, as my token."

Now it's his turn to look surprised. "Wow, I didn't know."

"Looks like our lives have been pretty connected all along," I remark, and it comes out casual despite the implications of it.

"Yeah, I guess they have."

"I should probably go to sleep. Training starts in the morning," I say after a few more minutes of comfortable silence. "Thanks for bringing me up here, Lucas. It was nice to have some serenity in this place."

"You're welcome," he nods. "I think I'll stay up here for a while."

"You okay?" I ask, genuinely concerned. His eyes have grown a little dark.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replies. "I just have some thinking to do. Gotta start strategizing on how I'm gonna get you out of there."

"There's only so much you can do," I remind him. "Most of it is up to me."

"I know," he admits. "But you're not going into this alone. You know that, right?"

"I didn't. But I do now."

He cracks another smile, and I reciprocate before saying goodnight and heading toward the door. I stop myself and don't let myself think before I dash back over to him and quickly press my lips to his cheek.

"You're not alone either, you know."

He looks at me, a combination of vaguely surprised and something else I can't place before he nods slowly. I say goodnight to him and make my way back to my room, my mind strangely blank.

I fall into bed, too tired for my mind to reel with thoughts about the events of the day.

**Okay, so I have 5 more chapters of this story already written, but I'm also thinking about maybe adding portions or whole chapters of Lucas's point of view. This will probably mean slower updates, but maybe a little bit more depth. I'm going to leave that up to you guys. So here are the choices: 1) Continue to write only from Brooke's POV 2) Start rewriting the next 5 chapters to include Lucas's POV or 3) Start writing Lucas's point of view beginning at Chapters 7/8, once Brooke is in the Games, that way he doesn't disappear from the plot entirely. Write a review and let me know your preference! **


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, I dress for breakfast in a simple pair of jeans and a light pink cotton top. I don't usually get to wear light colors, since our district is pretty much covered in a permanent layer of coal dust. I brush out my hair and head out to the dining area, where I find Felix scarfing down food and Lucas drinking a cup of black coffee, his eyes vaguely bloodshot.

"Good morning!" I chirp happily, sliding into the seat across from Lucas. He glances up at me and I see a small smile curl his lips upward. "How did everyone sleep?"

Felix says something incoherent through his mouth of food and I laugh at him. "Gross, Felix! You're really tarnishing your reputation as the most polite tribute to ever come from 12."

Felix just grunts and makes a rude gesture at me, but his eyes are laughing and I giggle back at him, although Lucas shoots him a look before joining in on our playful banter.

"Hey!" Lucas protests. "I was a very polite tribute."

"You're a polite everything," I say with a roll of my eyes. "So, Mr. Mentor, any trips for training?"

The lightness in his face disappears and he suddenly gets serious again. "Don't let them see your best skills. You want the other tributes to not know what you have up your sleeve. So Brooke, no climbing or knife throwing. Better yet, no hand to hand combat either. Felix, no wrestling. I advise you both to spend a good amount of time at the survival stations. Once you're past the blood bath, a lot of your survival hinges on your ability to survive the elements."

"Thank you," I say with a somewhat curt nod. "Let's play a game!"

Felix scoffs and keeps eating, stacking a plate with food and wandering into the room with the TV, leaving just myself and Lucas at the table.

"A game?" he asks with raised eyebrows.

"Yes!" I insist as I begin to eat. "This morning is all too serious for me."

"It's supposed to be serious."

"They're called the Hunger _Games _for a reason, Broody. Duh!"

He lets out a little bark of laughter at my joke, and I smirk in satisfaction. "Broody?"

"Yes, because you _brood." _

"Fine, _Cheery." _

"I'll accept that nickname but only if you play with me!"

"Alright, what's the game?"

"I'll say a word, and you have to come up with another word that starts with the last letter of my word. Like, if I say egg you could say green, and then I would say name, and then you would say…" I drift off as I try to think of a word, then crinkle up my eyebrows in thought. "Shit. What's another word that starts with E other than egg?'

He laughs loudly at me and agrees to play, starting out with the word "black".

"Kettle."

"Eat."

"Turnip."

"Puffin."

"What the fuck is a puffin?" I exclaim, laughing wildly. He starts laughing, too, and I'm glad to see the lightness return to his eyes as they sparkle with mirth.

"It's a kind of bird! I read about them once."

"You read horribly boring books, obviously."

"Hey, now…"

I grin at him and he grins back, our eyes locking. I try to shake the small shiver that goes up my spine, but I can't help but enjoy the feeling while it lasts. However, all good things must come to an end and I say goodbye to him to get ready for training.

"Okay," I feign a heavy sigh. "I suppose I need to go hone my skills as a mad killing machine."

He pegs me with a stare. "Not funny."

"I'm always funny," I say cheekily, sticking my tongue out at him and receiving the slightest of reluctant smiles. "Your face will get stuck like that, Broody, stop grumping around!"

"Grumping is not a verb!"

"Anything is a verb if you…verb it."

With those words of wisdom, I skip off to my room, the low chuckling of Lucas fading as I reach the hall, and change into my training outfit, which is a stretchy tank top along with some stretchy capri pants and impossibly comfortable sneakers.

I try to remember Lucas's tips as we descend into the training center, which is full of different stations. Felix and I are the last to arrive. Everyone is already occupied at assorted stations, but the survival stations are all empty. Felix immediately drifts to the spear throwing station, where the male tributes from 1 and 2 are practicing. I roll my eyes at his predictability and go to the edible plant station.

The instructor is nice, and he helps me a lot. By the end of my twenty minute session, I have a pretty good handle on what to look for in order to determine if a plant is poisonous. Next, I go to the knot tying station. I know a little bit about snares from Nathan, but I figure I could use a refresher course. The instructor is impressed with my work, and I'm grateful that Nathan's large, clumsy hands had needed my assistance so many times that I had finally started just going with him and doing several snares myself. While I can only make the kind that will catch smaller animals, I know that I'll still have an advantage looking for food.

"Hi Brooke," a sweet voice says as I approach the climbing station. I look up and see little Annabel, swinging from a rope near the ceiling, beaming down at me. I smile back up at her, trying to forget what Lucas said last night.

"Hey Annabel," I greet. I grab on to the rope beside hers and begin to scamper up it. "How's it hangin?"

My pun makes her laugh. "It's okay. I like it better up here. The Careers are a little scary."

I pretend like I'm not just as afraid of them as she is and let out a disbelieving laugh. "Please, those guys are all talk and no action, honey."

She can obviously tell I'm lying but she smiles and pretends to believe me. "Wanna see me do a trick?" I nod, and she leaps from her rope onto the other one to her left. I laugh and make noises like a roaring crowd.

"Wanna see me do one, too?" I ask, and she nods eagerly. I grab onto the rope to my right and slowly ease myself between them, so I'm dangling high up above the mats. I gather all of my strength and curl my legs into my chest before rocking backward into a spin. Once my arm joints have reached their full range of motion, I drop the rope to my right and complete the back flip before grabbing back on to my original rope. Annabel whoops in delight and I smile at her.

I hear something drop, followed by silence, and I realize that I was only supposed to give it seventy percent, and I cringe at what I've done; I've made myself a target. What seems like silly tricks to me seems like a display of strength, flexibility, and climbing abilities to the 22 tributes below me out for my blood.

In an effort to right my wrong, I impulsively throw a wink at Annabel and make a show of my arms giving out. I plummet onto the mat below me, at least thirty feet below. I feel the air leave my lungs and I gasp for air on the ground, cursing myself for my stupidity. I can feel myself bruising on one side already.

I stand and hobble my way over to the archery station and try to remember everything Nathan has taught me. I smile at the instructor, who gives me a couple of basic pointers that I already know. Feet apart, straight back, keep your elbow in line with your wrist. I make my stance, which Nathan thinks is awful, and give it a go.

It flies directly above me and I have to duck to avoid losing an eye. The trainer looks at my skeptically, and I realize he had good cause for that when my next arrow nearly hits him in the heart. As much as I like to believe that this makes me deadly, he was not even close to my target. I take a deep breath through my nose and remember that Peyton has always told me that it's not just practice that makes perfect, but patience, too. I keep going, taking deep breaths in between my shots. By the end of my session, I've actually hit the target six times, an impressive amount of me. I grin as I think of how proud Nathan would be.

Before I know it, the first day of training is almost over. My body is aching and I long to go back to my fancy room and take a long, hot shower. I look at the clock above the entrance and see that we only have fifteen more minutes. I sigh in relief, but that feeling is short lived.

"Hey, 12!"

I turn around and the girl from 2 is staring at me with steely blue eyes, her dark hair in a bun on top of her head.

"Yeah?"

"What do you say to some sparring?"

I narrow my eyes at her suspiciously. "Tributes aren't allowed to fight each other before the Games."

She shrugs. "A friendly spar doesn't exactly count."

The instructor beside her, a bulky man who, in all honesty, looks like he has rocks for brains, nods.

"Unless," the girl from 2 continues, "you're too scared."

I know what I should do. I should walk away and go over the edible plants one more time before calling it a day. Instead, my stubborn streak that Peyton often swears will be the death of me emerges, and I'm walking over to her before I even register what's happening.

I approach her and face her on the mats. "Okay, let's do this. What are the rules?"

"Rules?" she laughs. "This is the Hunger Games, Brooke Davis. There are no rules."

As I'm contemplating how the hell she knows my name, she attempts to strike me, but I quickly block it and shift to the side. We begin to circle one another, and she makes another attempt at a strike. As she steps toward me, I quickly trip her up. She regains her footing, though, and she comes at me again. This time she lands a hit on my stomach, but I quickly retaliate with a quick kick to the gut that leaves her gasping. I quickly throw a leg behind her knees, dropping her to the ground. I pin her arms down and start counting.

One.

Two.

Just as I'm about to win this spar once and for all, and much more quickly than I anticipated, she rolls us over and gets a good punch in on my face. I growl and use my legs as my strength to roll us over once again. This time, I'm the one who gets two good punches in on her face before I get an arm around her neck. This time, the pin lasts all three seconds, and I'm declared the winner. I push her off of me and stand up, smiling sweetly.

"Thanks for the practice, 2."

I turn and walk out of the training center, even though there are a few minutes left. I arrive at our apartment before Felix does, and I shed myself of my training shoes, carrying them in my hand.

"Hey Brooke," Lucas calls, jogging after me. I stop and let him catch up, rolling my sore neck around. "How was the first day?"

When he asks me, I'm suddenly struck by how badly everything hurts. After my fall and then the sparring with 2, I'm exhausted and extremely sore. All I want to do is take a hot shower and crawl into my ridiculously comfortable bed.

"A little rough," I say candidly. He looks worried, so I quickly continue. "But I learned a lot at the survival stations and got a pretty good handle on the bow."

"Good," he says, and he looks relieved. Then he gets a good look at the side of my face where 2 punched me. "What the hell happened to your face?"

I grimace at being caught and lower my eyes, hoping that a certain amount of bashful charm might soften him. It works on Nathan, so I might as well give it a try. "I maybe sparred with the girl from 2 a little bit?"

"How much is a little bit of sparring?" Lucas asks incredulously. It seems that my bashful act isn't working, so I drop it and come clean.

"Okay fine, I sparred with her. But I won!"

"You won?" he gasps, and for a moment I make the mistake of thinking he's proud. His face darkens. "God damn it, Brooke."

"What?" I ask. "What is your problem?"

"You just proved that you can defeat a Career in hand to hand combat, Brooke! They're going to come after you, and they're going to come after you hard. These are people that have been trained to kill for their entire lives, and you are the number one person on their hit list now," he growls. "How the fuck am I supposed to save you now?"

The implications of what he just said hit me like a ton of bricks and I stumble back a few steps, horrified when I feel tears filling my eyes. I turn and run up the hall, slamming the door to my room and locking it, even though I can hear Lucas calling my name.

I get sick of hearing him knock on the door, so I go into the bathroom and take that long shower I was fantasizing about earlier. I sink to the floor and I finally let myself cry. Because I'm going into the arena with a target on my back. Because I miss Peyton. Because I want to have Nathan give me a bear hug. Because I want to trade Haley my dry bread for some strawberries, even though I know she has better bread at home. Because of the way that Lucas Scott's blue eyes make me feel.

When my skin starts to shrivel, I finally pull myself off of the floor and dry off. The convenience of the full body and hair dryers in the Capitol will never cease to amaze me. I go to my closet and pull on a pair of dark linen pants and a plain, cream colored shirt that dips surprisingly low in the front. I contemplate changing it for this reason, but find I don't care. I hover near the door, trying to decide if I want to go out and eat dinner with everyone else, but I change my mind and crawl into bed instead. I close my eyes and breathe deeply.

The next thing I know, there is a frustrated pounding on my door. I glare at it until I hear Lucas' voice.

"Brooke, I'm leaving food out here," Lucas calls through the door. "I'm not going to try to talk to you, but you have to eat."

I sigh as I hear his footsteps walk away, half relieved and half disappointed. I get up and open the door, bringing the tray of food inside. Somehow, he has already figured out my favorite Capitol foods and has had them all arranged on the tray. I fight the urge to smile, still mad at the way he yelled at me in the hall. I eat quickly and then notice the note, asking me to meet him on the roof. I sigh and stand, slipping my feet into some slippers and padding up the secret staircase.

"Hi," I say to his back.

"Hey," he says quickly, turning around and rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. I do my best to pretend that it's not completely adorable. "I didn't think you would come."

I shrug, not really feeling like saying anything else.

"Listen, I talked to Felix about what happened today," he says. "And he told me that the spar was really short. When he explained it move for move, I think you're going to be fine. She was only giving it fifty percent, I know it. I called up her mentor and got a little bit of info on the girl. My best advice is to just stay away from her in the arena, she's a real killer. But for the record, you need to watch your back. You can't fall into their teasing so quickly."

"I know," I grumble. "I'm a little proud."

"A little?" he mocks. I stick my tongue out at him and he laughs before becoming serious. "I'm sorry that I yelled at you like that. It's just…it's my job to try and make sure you come out of this alive, and I overreacted." It stings a little bit that his concern is chalked up simply to doing his job. "Am I forgiven?"

"Yeah, I guess," I say mock-grudgingly, ignoring the sting. "Only because you bribed me with my favorite food."

He grins in return, and suddenly places an arm around my shoulders, pulling me to his side in a half-hug.

"Good, I'm glad."

He keeps his arm around me for awhile as we look out over the Capitol and I enjoy the feeling of his warmth, but there's a question burning in my mind and I have to ask it.

"Lucas," I say softly, pulling away from him. "Don't you think that our…friendship is a little inappropriate for a mentor and a tribute?"

Something flashes in his eyes, and he looks down in guilt. "I'm sorry, Brooke. I shouldn't have."

"It was just a hug," I reassure him, taking a step toward him, but he takes a step back. I rake my fingers through my hair in frustration and force myself to continue looking into his eyes.

"And that's too much," he says definitively. "I think you're right. I think outside of coaching you, I need to keep my distance."

I swallow hard but keep up a mask. It's one of my strongest skills. My ability to hide my emotions would be legendary if anybody even realized how good I am at it. "If that's what you want," I say, failing at keeping the hurt out of my voice.

"It's not," he says candidly, and I'm surprised by his honesty. "But it's what will keep you safe."

"Nothing can keep me safe," I shoot back. "Not you, not alliances, sure as hell not myself. How is distancing yourself from me going to help me?"

"Trust me, Brooke, it will."

"How?" I push.

"I'm a distraction to you," he finally says. "And you're a distraction for me. I've been using you as a distraction because I hate doing this job, but I can't do that. And I can't let myself get attached to you the way that I have been, but you were different than I expected you to be."

"What did you expect me to be?" I ask, unable to restrain myself. He remains silent and averts his eyes from me and I let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, right. Like everyone else in 12 you thought I was just some brainless Seam slut."

"No!" Lucas says quickly, but I shake my head at him and hold up my hand.

"You can save it," I growl. "If distance is what you want, it's what I'll give you."

I turn to leave and I give him a cold look. "You know, Lucas, I thought you were different. I thought you saw past all of that because you're somebody who understands what it's like to be more than what you seem. But I was wrong about you. And you were _very _wrong about me. I'm not going to be your distraction anymore. I'm not going to comfort _you _anymore. You survived your Games, Lucas, and I know that it's hard afterwards but I'm trying to figure out a way to survive mine."

I hear him let out a strangled sound that sounds vaguely like my name, but I keep walking away from him until he finally yells my name.

"Brooke!" He jogs over and stops in front of me. "Everything came out completely wrong. It really did and I'm really sorry for that. You're not a distraction to me. I mean that getting close to you is distracting me from what I need to do to make sure that you make it out of there alive. I need us to be professional about this so that I'll get to see you again once this is all over. I _need_ you to come out alive, Brooke."

"Okay," I concede. "Professional it is, then."

I can tell my less than warm reaction isn't exactly what he wanted, but I walk away regardless, finally letting my eyes pool with tears and wanting nothing more than Peyton's skinny arms around me and Nathan's earnest blue eyes giving me a look of comfort.


	5. Chapter 5

The last few days of training fly by much like the previous ones. I wake up, dress in my training outfit (of which I have a new one each day) and eat a healthy breakfast. If Lucas and I are ever at the table at the same time, I am distant but polite. His eyes remain bloodshot and his voice fairly hoarse. I tell myself that I don't, but I worry about him and when I come back from training, he is usually nowhere to be found. From what I understand, he's out socializing with other mentors and Capital socialites. It makes my stomach roll a little bit when I turn on the TV the night after our fight, only to find some woman with orange hair and blue eyebrows gossiping about the relationship between him and the remarkably normal looking Capital woman he was spotted with at the pool during the day.

She has long blonde hair and big, giant blue eyes. She looks like she might be around 20 years old, and her lipstick is an alarming shade of orange. She has a bunch of colored star tattoos lining her collar bone and her clothing is outrageous, but other than that, she looks fairly normal; she also looks like the complete opposite of me.

But tonight, I'll be the one on the television screen. Before I know it, it is time for the interviews. We are interviewed by a famous television host in order to try to receive sponsors the night before we go in to the arena. The fact that I am going into the arena in the morning has still not set in, and I let Alexander dress me in relative silence.

"Brooke," he says softly. "Do you know what your angle is going to be for the interview?"

I remember my brief, uncomfortable coaching session with Lucas the day before, who advised me to go for a passionate angle. My sacrifice for Peyton should be made the focus of the interview, so I need to make my loyalty for my best friend shine through, while still appearing as a strong competitor. I don't think I'll have a problem accurately depicting a fierce loyalty toward my friend, but I'm not sure I can do it without making my love for her make me look weak.

"_I'm pretty sure no matter what you say, they'll love you," he had said. I snort derisively and he mumbles something that I don't quite catch but sounds something like "you don't know anything" or something along those lines. _

What Lucas doesn't know is that I have a secret weapon up my sleeve, one that I'm fairly certain might be an atomic bomb. I'm cautious about what he'll do if I drop it, especially given the distance I've put between us, and of what might happen to him as a result. But I know that it will win me sponsors, and I know that Capitol citizens will be dying for me to come back alive.

Over the last several days, I had realized something; the Capitol citizens absolutely love Lucas Scott. His valiant behavior in his games, his compassion toward Daisy, and his release of a book of poetry as his special talent after the Games had made him a very popular Victor. He appeared often in the Capitol, always with a different beautiful woman on his arm. We don't have tabloids in District 12, so I had never been aware. Once in the Capitol, it was impossible to ignore, and also impossible to ignore the jealousy I held toward the beautiful, lavishly outfitted rich women accompanying him to Capitol events.

The only times that we've spoken have been about strategy, and although our short-lived friendship was only over the span of a few days, I find myself missing him.

When Alexander is done with me, I am a vision. I'm wearing a long, floor length red dress that is strapless and hugs my every curve. The bottom flares out into folds of fabric, intricately inlaid with a variety of gems that crawl up the bodice. My hair is once again in unruly curls down my back, my lips coated in a cherry colored gloss. I stare at myself in shock, turning to Alexander in awe.

"Whatever you do, promise me that you'll twirl on stage. But don't do it yet, okay? I don't want to ruin the surprise."

"I promise I will," I gasp, still marveling at my gown and my makeup. "I don't know how you do it."

"It's not hard with a model like you."

I swat at him and let him lead me to the elevator. Lucas is waiting near the elevator, as is Felix. Felix looks me up and down with a wolfish grin on his face that makes my cheeks turn pink.

"Lookin' good, Davis."

"Thanks, Felix," I smile back. "You don't look too bad yourself."

And he really doesn't. He's dressed in an all black tuxedo with a tie that looks like fire, his hair slicked back. I finally chance a glance over at Lucas, who is in a black suit with a deep red shirt and a thin black tie, his hair slicked to the side. I bite my lip unconsciously as I look at him, and when I meet his eyes I'm startled.

They're burning with something, and I can't quite place if it's anger or desire or maybe something in between. He clears his throat roughly.

"Alexander did a very good job."

I'm a little deflated by his comment and nod. "Yes, yes he did. You look very nice."

"Thank you."

Felix looks between us and mock-shivers. "It just got freezing in here."

We return to the same auditorium that hosted the tribute parade. This time, the floor is primarily occupied with seats, and there is a large stage, behind which all of the tributes are ushered, lined up girl-boy by district. I take my place with Felix amongst the other tributes, and I can already see that the girl from District 2 who I sparred with is taking the vixen angle, if her see-through dress is any indication. The Careers do their usual combination of sexy and fierce. I feel a rush of gratitude toward my mentor and stylist as I watch the girl from 2 essentially sell herself on stage.

The other interviews don't seem like anything special. Everybody looks nice in their fancy outfits and makeup, and they all seem like pretty decent people, which makes my stomach turn.

Annabel's interview is adorable, and her stylists dressed her in an angelic white dress that emphasizes her youth and innocence. The Capitol audience seems to melt as she leaves the stage, and I give her an encouraging thumbs up and barely even register her district partner's interview before I take the stage myself.

I walk out and remember what Alexander told me about twirling. I take a seat, my heart pounding in my chest as I deliberate whether or not I should drop my bomb.

"So, Brooke," the host says, flashing me an alarmingly wide grin. "Everyone is dying to know. Who is Peyton Sawyer, and why did you volunteer for her?"

I look out for a friendly face to focus on, and my eyes lock onto the baby blue ones that I know belong to Lucas. He keeps his eyes trained on me and gives me an encouraging half smile.

"Peyton Sawyer has been my best friend since…well, since we were babies. I never had any siblings and neither did she, but we always had each other. We do everything together, really. And she is the most beautiful soul you could ever hope to meet," I say, trying not to tear up as I talk about my best friend. I know that she's watching, probably in the town square with her hands balled up in her father's old black t-shirt that's her favorite to wear. I need to tell her that I love her one last time, because neither of her parents were able to. "There's something about Peyton Sawyer; she's not like other people. She can make anything beautiful. She's truly one of the most gifted people to ever live, and even though she's kind of cranky and I'm cheery, and she's a little dark and twisty and I'm a little bright and shiny, we're soul mates. We really are. So when I heard her name, I didn't even think about it. It wasn't something I had to do or wanted to do, even, it's just something that I was absolutely without a doubt meant to do. She always says that people always leave, but I never do, and I always promise that I won't. I just hope she knows that I only left because I love her too much not to. And that's why I'm going to come back; I love Peyton too much not to."

"That is very touching, Brooke," the host says, and I'm surprised to see he looks almost genuine. "You seem to have a very big heart."

"Watch out," I warn teasingly. "Don't make me look like a big softie, now. I also promised Peyton I would do anything it took to make it back to District 12 for her. I think we all see how seriously I take my promises to Peyton."

Based on the look of elation on Lucas' face, I have avoided my loyalty being used against me. The crowd goes wild, and the host begins to talk about my dress.

"Oh yes, it's beautiful, isn't it? Alexander is a real gem."

I wink at the audience in an overexagerrated way to indicate my intentional use of a pun, and I get quite the laugh. These vapid people want to use me, and I will use them right back.

"Would you like me to twirl for you?" I ask the audience, still looking at Lucas. He raises his eyebrows and I give him my best flirtatious smile in response. The crowd, assuming that I am wooing them, goes crazy once again. I give a little wink, this one more subtle, and begin to twirl. I hear the audience gasp and rise to their feet with applause. When I finally become so dizzy that I can no longer spin, I collapse back into my chair, breathless and giggling, tossing my hair over one shoulder and blowing a kiss to the cheering crowd.

"Well, Brooke!" the host exclaims. "You're the girl on fire. First in the parade, and now in that dress. What does that say about you?"

I don't let myself think about the question. "I'm warm, but I'm dangerous. I can sustain life, but I can end it. I am frightening, but beautiful. Touch me, and you'll get burned."

I am met with cat calls from the audience and an impressed, if not puzzled, look from Lucas. The next question is the moment of truth for me, the moment I have to decide if I want to drop the bomb that will shatter everything.

"I think I'm wondering what we're all wondering, Brooke. Do you have a special guy back home?"

Before I can stop myself, I answer, breaking my eye contact with Lucas. I can't look at him while I do this. "Well, there is one. I've had a crush on him since I was eleven, but I don't think he ever noticed me until after the Reaping."

"Really?" the host asks. "You seem impossible to ignore!"

"Well, he's had a lot going on for the last few years," I admit.

"I'm sure that once you return, he'll simply _have_ to notice you," the host empathizes, and I'm glad that he's playing right into my hand.

"I don't think it's possible for him to feel that way about me," I say, biting my lip coyly. The host asks me how that could be true, and I look down at my shoes, taking a deep breath and looking directly at the camera to avoid letting my eyes wander to Lucas. I wonder what he's thinking right now. I wonder if he knows what I'm about to say, if he's seen it coming since the train, or if he thinks I'm talking about Nathan or some random person from our district.

"Even if he did, I think it might be against the rules or something," I say, trying to prepare Lucas for what's about to happen so that he can try to control his face.

"What rules?" the host asks. "Your mother's rules?"

"Oh, nothing like that," I giggle. "No, no, I mean the rules of the Games. Although I'm not sure if anything like this has happened before."

"Please, Brooke, we must know who this paramour is!" the host crows, and the crowd begs me for an answer.

"Well," I say slowly, as if I'm letting them in on a secret. A secret that is televised to the entire country. "It might be against the rules, because he's my mentor."

The camera snaps quickly to Lucas, whose blue eyes are frozen in shock, his mouth slightly open. He seems to take a deep breath, and then the buzzer sounds, indicating that it is now Felix's turn to take the stage. I smile, thanking the host and blowing kisses to the audience before I scurry off as quickly as my high heels will allow me.

I sit alone backstage and finally let the silly, flirty smile fall off of my face. I put my head in my hands, the implications of what I've just done setting in on me. I have no idea if there is actually a rule against mentors and tributes dating, but I imagine that there must be. I can only imagine the hot water that I've thrown Lucas into with my remarks.

But they were true. And in some ways, I wanted to say them. I know he wouldn't let me say them to his face, not now. This was the only way to tell him before I go into the arena. I convince myself that I did what I had to do for my own sanity, the last wish of a girl about to be executed.

Felix's interview is over in a flash, and then we are going back up to our apartment. I dodge his questions and inquisitive looks. I look around the living room for Lucas eagerly, but he is nowhere to be found. I sigh and sit down on the couch, not bothering to change out of my dress. Felix says goodnight to me and goes to his room, as does our escort. I know I should be sleeping; sleep deprivation does not go well with entering the arena. But I can't sleep until I see Lucas.

It takes half an hour, but eventually he comes up in the elevator, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his tie loosened. He is rubbing his forehead, and I almost decide to run before he can see me, but I stand my ground and rise from the couch.

He finally hears me and glances over. If it's possible, he somehow both tenses and relaxes at the same time.

"How much trouble am I in?" I ask softly, intertwining my fingers and looking at my bare feet. He heaves a deep sigh.

"You're not," he says. "Roof."

I follow him in silence toward the staircase, and for the first time, the silence between us is fraught with tension. We emerge onto the roof and make our way to the railing. He stays staring out at the skyline, but I turn my face toward him, watching his crinkle in that brooding expression.

"Why did you say that?" he asks suddenly.

"Because it's the truth," I say without missing a beat.

He shakes his head slowly, back and forth. "No it isn't."

"Yes it is," I insist. "It really is, Lucas. And it's okay if you don't feel the same way, and I'm sorry if I caused you trouble, but I needed you to know."

"You needed the Capitol to know," he corrects me.

"That isn't why!" I defend. "After our last real conversation, I didn't think you'd even let me get the words out."

He deflates at this and finally faces me, his face looking conflicted.

"Brooke," he says softly, and he takes a step toward me, lifting one hand to my face. I close my eyes and lean in to his touch. "This isn't good."

My eyes snap open at that, his words unexpected. "What do you mean?"

"The President has a very specific purpose for me, Brooke. He uses me to get secrets. All those people you see me with…they pay me for my…company, in secrets. I find out the secrets of his enemies for him."

I'm shocked by this knowledge, but let him continue.

"If I'm in any type of intimate relationship, all of that will crumble. The Capitol women will fall in love with our love story, and they won't want to take me from you, or betray you. You won their hearts tonight."

"Did I win yours?" I ask, surprising myself with my boldness. He gives me a tender smile.

"You did that when you were fourteen," he smiles. "But Brooke, this can't happen. He's going to do anything he can to get rid of you now."

"Let him try!" I say, pushing away angrily. "He can't run your life like that! He can't ruin it. You're not his fucking puppet!"

"I am though, Brooke," he says, pulling me back to him and looking me dead in the eyes. "Once you go into the Games, they never end. Not even when you come out."

"There has to be a way," I say desperately.

"There isn't," Lucas assures me. "Brooke, I care about you _so_ much. And that's why I'm going to publicly say that your statement was a silly school girl crush and that you are nothing more than another faceless tribute to me."

I feel my stomach fall into my toes and I try to move out of his grasp, but he keeps me there. "Brooke, it's for your own good. And for mine. Losing you…that would be my final breaking point. I can't let them hurt you, pretty girl. Not because of me."

"Is that really what you think, Lucas? Is that how you feel about me? Just another faceless tribute?"

His face twists and he shakes his head adamantly. "God, no. No, Brooke. Not at all." Before I can reply, he leans down and kisses me. He gives me only a couple of seconds to reciprocate before he pulls back and looks me straight in the eyes. "I wanna be with you, Brooke. But you're going into the arena, and I have to do everything I can to protect you. That's my job."

I nod. As much as I hate this, I understand. "Okay," I whisper. "Okay, that's fine."

We stay on the roof for as long as we can, sharing stories about our lives at home and a lot of kisses. But eventually I am forced to detangle myself from his arms in order to get a few hours of sleep, because tomorrow, I have to show the Gamemakers what I'm made of.

Before I go, he pulls me into him and gives me a soft kiss. "You're gonna do great, Brooke. I promise."

I look up at him and manage half of my usual dimpled smile before squeezing his hand and dashing off to my bed, where I fall asleep dreaming of life without the Games.

**Okay, I know in the Hunger Games the Training Scores come out first but I messed up and rewriting was taking too long, so just go with me! **


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, I wake up and immediately vomit. The nerves have my stomach in a knot; in just a couple of hours, I will be in front of the Gamemakers, showcasing myself in an effort to get the highest possible score to recruit more sponsors.

When I reach the breakfast table, Felix is voraciously eating. I wrinkle my nose; food sounds awful right now. Lucas is sitting beside Felix, sipping coffee. His eyes are red-rimmed with dark circles underneath them, like they had been earlier in the week. I watch him carefully as I sit.

I sip water for a while, hoping it will settle my stomach, but it doesn't. Lucas watches me anxiously, and to appease him, I attempt to nibble at some dry toast. Within seconds, I am running to the bathroom and emptying my stomach of its dismal contents.

I return to the table and give him a shaky smile, but he does not return it.

"Try this," he says seriously, handing me a cup of bubbly clear liquid. "It's sparkling water, it helps ease the stomach."

I manage to eat a small breakfast under his watchful eyes. Felix gets up to go shower before we go down to the Training Center. This leaves Lucas and I alone.

"So, about last night-" I begin, but I am cut off.

"Brooke," Lucas laughs. Something about it sounds almost tinny. It is completely artificial, and I'm confused. "Do you honestly think that I return those feelings?"

For a moment, I feel my throat tighten before I remember what he said last night about protecting me, about the public statement he is going to make later today.

"Oh," I say. "Um, I guess I was wrong. I'm sorry, Lucas. You've been a good mentor."

Despite knowing why he's saying it, it still hurts. I wonder if maybe it's how he really feels, and maybe he just doesn't want to upset the girl who is going to be facing her death in roughly twenty four hours. I give him another quaky smile and stand, pushing in my chair and leaving.

I hear him trying to whisper something loudly at my back, but between my nerves and my insecurities, I don't want to hear it. I go to my room and stay there until it is time to go to the Training Center.

I sit with Felix anxiously. He tells me that he's going to show off his strength and throw some weights around. I nod. He is fairly strong, but not as strong as the others. However, he has no other formidable skills to show off in front of the Gamemakers, so I imagine that it's really his only choice.

"Brooke Davis," a robotic, cold voice calls. I give Felix a small smile and get up, walking into the Training Center. It looks absolutely colossal, without all of the other tributes and trainers milling around. I look up and see that the Gamemakers are enjoying a buffet meal. I wonder how they can eat, watching twenty four children desperately try to show off their ability to kill one another.

I realize that nobody is looking over. I clear my throat, but still, nobody even glances at me.

"I'm Brooke Davis," I say as loud as I can. "District 12."

They finally glance over, and I sigh, trying to think of something that will catch their attention. I was planning on demonstrating my gymnastic skills, but that's largely silent, and unless they're looking at me, there's no point in wasting the effort and risk of injury before the Games. I walk over to the spears and push the cart over, resulting in a loud, clanking commotion. They finally look at me and I grin, shrugging at them. Now is a good as time as ever to play up the charm.

"Whoops," I say sweetly. "Well, now that I have your undivided attention."

I shoot them a sly wink before I launch into three back handsprings in a row. I do my best not to look up at them, and I do a front flip. As soon as I land, I tuck into a somersault. I rise to my feet and do a backbend and a walk over, launching my feet over my head in order to stand. After this, I blank. What else is there for me to do?

While they look somewhat impressed, they also appear bored, and they go back to their conversations and plates full of fruity desserts. I feel my jaw clenching in agitation. I am going to die for their entertainment, the least they could do is give me a minute of their time.

I spot the knives and I get a crazy idea. Lucas will be so angry. He might even kill me. But I can't help it. Once I have the idea in my head, I know there's no way that I can possibly not do it. When I think of telling Peyton this story later, I imagine her jaw dropping, the way it does when she's trying to disapprove but fighting off a grin. I imagine her giving in and collapsing onto the grass in the meadow beside me.

"_Brookie Monster, what the hell am I gonna do with you?" _

I pick up one of the knives, spinning it in my hand and taking aim at the large Panem seal that is just behind their heads.

"_Don't think, Brooke. Just you and the target. Don't pay attention to anything else. Nothing else exists, alright?" _I can practically hear Nathan's advice ringing in my head.

The Head Gamemaker is casually chatting with a friend. I grin to myself and put all of my focus into this moment. I look at the clock and see I have just ten seconds left.

I lift my arm and think of everything Nathan has ever said to me about knife throwing before I release the knife from my hand. I know it's a long shot, quite literally. The seal is extremely far away, and my aim has always been dodgy at best.

But somehow, it sticks right in the middle, the handle shaking back and forth from the force. The Head Gamemaker stumbles backward, knocking over a large gelatin mold, which topples onto the lap of an important looking man with a strange green beard.

Without waiting to see what they might do to me, I bow as the buzzer sounds, giving them by biggest smile.

"Thank you for your time."

I stride out of the room and as soon as the door is shut, I run my hands over my hair and take a deep breath. I decide not to tell Lucas what happened in there, opting to hide in my room until the mandatory viewing, during which my training score will be revealed. He probably assumes that I am upset about my session and that I want to be alone. I'm grateful that he leaves me alone and doesn't ask how it went, because I don't think I can lie to his face and I'm not ready for his reaction. Hopefully, I have receieved a high score, and I can leave it at knife throwing.

Our escort knocks on my door soon after, telling me that it is time to join the others for the viewing. I swallow hard and push through the fear that is gnawing at me. While it may be just a number, it is a number that will have quite a bit of sway with the sponsors that I desperately need. I know that sponsors are my only way out of the arena, and once they find out that Lucas (allegedly) doesn't feel the same way about me as I do about him, I'm screwed. I will have lost all sentimental charm to them.

I walk out and take a seat. They are doing a recap of mentor interviews, and I see Lucas's face on the screen as he laughs heartily.

"Oh, Brooke is a sweet girl," he says. "And she's easy on the eyes, too. But no, I don't feel the same way about her. We all know that my heart is here in the Capitol. But with who, we may never know."

He winks one blue eye, and I force myself to stare forward at the TV as Felix stares at me with a cocky, self-satisfied expression and Lucas steadily looks at the wall beside the television. Finally, it is time to announce the training scores.

As expected, the Careers receive high scores. Everyone else receives fairly typical scores, but I beam with pride when Anabel receives a seven. It's the second highest score, after the Careers all pull 9's and 10's. Finally it is my turn, and I resist the urge to screw my eyes shut as my portrait fills the screen. I notice that I am the only one of the tributes displaying the slightest of smiles, my dimples evident in the photo. I don't have time to dwell on this when a number flashes on the screen.

It is a twelve.

I received the first perfect score in thirty years.

I am out of my seat, squealing with excitement, jumping up and down. Felix is staring at me, his jaw somewhere near the floor. My escort is ranting on and on about finally having some honor in our district, and Lucas…well, Lucas looks downright pissed off. He stalks toward me and grabs my arm, not even bothering to wait around for Felix's score before he is dragging me out of the room and throwing me into a chair. All laughter and joy has been wiped off of my face and I stare up at him, equal parts confused and afraid.

"What have you done?" he says tersely, his voice low and gravelly. My eyes are wide, echoing my confusion.

"What do you mean?" I gasp. "Lucas, I got the first perfect score in thirty years!"

"Do you know what happened," he says slowly, "to the last tribute who received a perfect score?"

I rack my brain, trying to remember anything I may have heard from my parents about it, but I can't. I stare up at him with helpless hazel eyes and let him continue.

"He was a tribute from District 5," Lucas explains, his voice tight as he sits on the coffee table in front of me, leaning his elbows on his knees. "All the other tributes, they labeled him as their first to kill. None of the outlying tributes would ally with him, he was too dangerous. The Careers hunted him like an animal. And they slaughtered him like one, too, Brooke. I can't…I can't even tell you how, but they did, and that's what they're going to want to do to you."

I stare up at him in horror, and I can feel my chest heaving in attempts to breathe, but I can't. I am drowning. I'm sorry, Peyton. I'm so sorry. I'm not coming back to you, I'm going to be slaughtered. I'm going to be hunted. Nathan, I'm so sorry. I'll try to avoid their tricks, I've seen you hunt, but you're not like them.

I can't focus on anything. The walls are closing in, everything is spinning. Nothing makes sense to me, words sound like gibberish. Lucas is leaning over me, I think he is grabbing my face, but I can't register touch. He is speaking, but I can't understand the language, and it sounds like he's under water. My body is simultaneously burning and freezing and I'm shaking, shaking like mad.

And then everything goes black.

I wake up on my bed, and a tall figure is pacing rapidly near the door, rubbing his forehead. I try to sit up, but I fall backwards, exhausted. The figure approaches quickly, and I almost shrink back in fear, but it's Lucas. Just Lucas.

"They gave you a sedative," he states calmly. "You had a severe panic attack. I shouldn't have been so harsh with you."

His apology is empty, hardly heartfelt, and it stings. I realize that the Capitol can hear us, and after my stunt, they are probably listening. Regardless, I can't shake the feeling that he has been simply entertaining the silly feelings of a dying girl.

"Well, I'm okay," I say to him as harshly as I can muster given my current state. "You can go now, I'm sure you have more important things to do."

He gets a strange look in his eyes, but I ignore it. "Alright. You should go back to sleep. You need as much rest as possible for the arena tomorrow."

I feel the bile flood into my mouth but I push it down. I nod back at him before rolling over, keeping my back to him. He seems to hesitate for a moment, but then I hear him leave. I sigh, and I roll over onto my back. I want to cry so badly, but the sedative seems to have numbed that capability.

I think of my tiny bed that I share with Peyton. Our inside jokes, and the nights we've spent staring at the ceiling, talking about life and death and all of the little things in between. I think about Nathan, how we first became friends because I punched him in the face for beating up a Merchant kid right after he moved to the Seam. I think about how much that set the tone for the next 9 years. I remember fondly when Peyton and Nathan briefly dated when we were thirteen, and how it had ended in absolute and utter disaster.

I remember all the dates I'd been on, all the Merchant boys who had kept me a secret from their town friends and families. I remember the time I almost fell in love, with the cobbler's son, and how when he broke my heart, something in me changed. A string of brief, primarily physical, flings followed, and he confronted me, flinging harsh words at me. I think back to what I yelled at him in the schoolyard.

"_I am who I am! No excuses," I said fiercely. "You don't get to call me a whore. You broke my heart. I make no apologies for how I chose to fix what you broke." _

And then Nathan had come as if from nowhere, punching him right in the face, and a brawl had broken out. That had been a little over a year ago; I had just turned sixteen. Vaguely, I remember seeing the piercing blue eyes of lonely Lucas Scott, watching from the schoolyard fence. He walked there a lot, even though he didn't have to go to school after winning the games.

My whole life, I've rued the day I was born in District 12. I wished I was born in District 4, near the ocean. Maybe one of the luxury districts. I've always wanted to be somewhere else. I would never admit it to anyone, not even Peyton, but I even sometimes fantasized about being born in the Capitol, living in a big house with lavish things, not worried about the Reaping.

But now I'm here, even if only for a little while, and all I can think about is going back home. Even if I lived, I wouldn't want to be alive if I couldn't return to District 12. If I couldn't go back to Peyton and Nathan, and even my mother. If I couldn't walk the beaten path from the Seam into Town. If I never saw Julian Baker's face ever again, even if he did break my heart.

I guess I spent so much time hating District 12 that I forgot to remember why I loved it in the first place. I think back to something Peyton said to me, sitting in the meadow and staring at the stars.

"_I know you always wish you lived somewhere else," she said, "but you know, Brooke, there's only one District 12. And it's your home." _

All of my angsty thoughts of Lucas, and even of the Games, are pushed aside as I absorb myself in all of my memories of where I come from, and the people I love. I told myself that I will not change, that I won't become a piece in their games. There's no way to know where you're going unless you know where you've been, and so I focus on that rather than where I'll be going in the morning. My district, and the people that live there, have made me who I am.

And I am a person who's going to win the Games.

I try my best to drift off to sleep, but I can't, not until I say my goodbye to Lucas. I have a feeling that he'll be up on the roof, so I drag myself out of bed and make my way up the staircase.

Just as I thought, he's standing near the railing with his head in his hands.

"Hey there, Broody," I say, my raspy voice a little hoarser than usual.

He spins around quickly and gives me a soft look. "Hey there, pretty girl. I was hoping you'd come up here."

"I couldn't have that be our goodbye," I say with a shrug that I mean to be casual, but the way my voice breaks shows that I'm not.

"It's a see you later," he says, taking a step closer to me and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. "I'll see you in a few days, once this is all over."

I swallow hard and nod. "Yeah, you will. I'm going to win, Lucas. I promise."

His face contorts a little bit and he heaves deep sigh. "I know you will, Brooke."

I wrap my arms around his middle and bury my head in his chest. I feel him drop a kiss to the top of my head and I sigh.

"I wish I could freeze this moment forever," I hear him mumble.

"I'll allow it," I say after a moment, glancing up at him with a smirk.

"Okay, good," he teases back, dropping his lips to mine.

I steel myself and take a deep breath, pulling back to look him in the eyes. "Lucas, I need you to promise me something."

"Yeah?"

"If…if I don't win, if I don't make it…I need you to promise me that when you get back to District 12, you'll take care of Peyton. I know you don't know her, but she's friends with your friend Haley and-"

"I will," he says, his voice low. "I promise. But I think Nathan Lee has that covered."

I shake my head a little bit. "If I lose," I say casually, as if losing doesn't mean my death, "Nathan's going to need to be taken care of, too. But I already assigned him a babysitter."

"Who?"

"Haley James, of course," I say as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Lucas's eyes narrow a little bit, but he doesn't say anything. I'm grateful. I don't want to get into an argument over our two best friends on what might be my last night alive.

"I'll look after Peyton," he assures me. "I promise, I will. But it's not going to come down to that. We both know it."

"I know," I reply, trying to remain as confident as he seems.

"I mean it," he says seriously, taking my face in his hands and staring at me. "You're beautiful, and brilliant, and brave. You're going to be fine."

Then he kisses me and I feel the warmth from his kiss pool in my stomach. I lean into it and reluctantly pull away a few minutes later.

"I need to try to sleep," I sigh. He nods in agreement and silently leads the way back to my room, where he looks around before pulling me into his arms and putting a gentle kiss on my forehead.

I smile at him, and he attempts to smile back, but his brow furrows and he settles on giving me one last gentle kiss before he nods resolutely.

"Goodnight, Brooke. Sleep well."

"Goodnight, Luke," I reply. I fall into my bed and toss and turn for a while before finally falling asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

I wake the next morning frighteningly calm. After my epiphany last night, I feel collected. I am going into the Games with a strategy, and when I enter the arena, I will be ready. I sit at breakfast and calmly eat even portions of different foods, slowly hydrating myself. Felix sits beside me, engorging himself on greasy, albeit delicious, foods. He doesn't drink water, and instead opts for orange juice. I finally can't help myself, and I urge him to eat some fruit and drink a glass of water. He eyes me warily, but does so anyway.

Lucas enters the room, dressed in a suit and tie, looking quite sharp. I eye him carefully as I take a drink of water and notice that he again looks haggard, his eyes red-rimmed and sleep deprived. I do my best to hide my concern for him. When he meets my eyes, I give him a little grin and a wink as I pop a strawberry into my mouth, and his eyes brighten just a little bit.

"Don't forget," Lucas reminds us both, "ignore the Cornucopia. Take whatever is in your path, and run to shelter. Try to find a water source immediately."

Felix finally decides he has eaten enough and sits back, stretching lazily and smiling at me. "Well, I guess I'll see ya in there, Brookie."

I roll my eyes at him, but I smile back. Despite our limited interactions, Felix is from home, and that fact alone gives me a certain amount of fondness toward him despite his arrogance. "See ya then, Felix."

He gives me a salute and I laughingly return it, watching him walk back to his room before returning quietly to my balanced breakfast.

I can feel eyes on me and I look up to find Lucas staring intently at me. His brow is furrowed and I can tell that he is in pain. Without thinking about it, I reach across the table and grab his hand in mine, giving him a soft half smile. They can hear us, but they can't see us. He squeezes my hand tightly, so desperately that it almost hurts. I open my mouth to speak but he shakes his head sharply at me and I nod. He must know that I would have said something stupid.

The clock chimes and I look up to find that I have to get going to meet my stylist, who will prepare me for the arena. I finish off one more glass of water and I ignore the lump forming in my throat as I turn to say goodbye to Lucas.

"Luke," I say softly. "I'm going to be okay."

"Stay safe," he says, slowly standing and staring at me from across the table. When I meet his eyes, I can see that there's so much more he wants to say. I'm tempted to drag him to the roof, so I can hear the words, but I know I don't have time.

"I'll do more than that, Broody," I wink, and I skip off to my room. My cheer and my confidence are half an act and half absolutely genuine. I'm going into this with a plan. I'm going into this as myself. It hits me that this may be the last time I ever see Lucas. Part of me is upset that I didn't say more, but I also am satisfied that he will remember me as I want to be remembered; fearless and happy. I remember our goodbye last night, on top of the roof, and decide that this morning doesn't count.

When I get to my room, Alexander is there with my outfit for the arena. I look at it carefully. There is a pair of tight, stretchy black pants, a pair of socks, some comfortable black shoes, and a grey long sleeve v-neck made of some type of material that has a slight shine.

"No jacket?" I ask skeptically as I examine the clothes. Alexander shakes his head.

"I'm pretty sure that shirt is made of insulex. It's an insolated spandex material that uses your body's own heat to warm the material."

I nod and slip into the bathroom to change. I brush my brown hair back and put it in a high ponytail, cursing my hands for shaking. I splash some cool water in my face and pat it try before taking a deep breath and looking myself in the eye.

"I am who I am," I say to myself. "No excuses."

I emerge from the bathroom and follow Alexander. We get into a car with Felix and his stylist. We approach a small building and take an elevator down into what looks like a basement. Felix and I nod our goodbyes to one another and follow our stylists down a long corridor in opposite directions. Alexander opens a large metal door with a numeric code, opening it for me; I step inside and he follows. I stare in awe at a large glass tube, and I know I will step inside of it and it will launch me into the arena.

The nerves have caught up with me and it feels like there are thousands of butterflies threatening to burst out of my stomach all at once. It is nothing like the pleasant butterflies I get when I dash through the forest, finally free, spinning around with my arms outstretched while Nathan laughs behind me. Or the butterflies I get when Lucas looks at me in a certain way, when he holds my hand, when he presses a kiss to my forehead. These are butterflies of unadulterated fear, without a single trace of excitement. While I may be going into this with a surprising amount of positivity, I am certainly not at all excited. I am undeniably still afraid.

Alexander pulls me into a hug and I melt into it, realizing that this is the last time I may feel another person's arms around me in an embrace. He gives me a wide, proud smile as he pulls away from me.

"As a part of your team, I'm not allowed to bet in the Games," he says, "but just know that if I could, I would bet on you."

This makes me beam, and I walk into the tube still staring at his eyes. He nods at me.

"Give them hell, girl on fire."

I open my mouth to say something in return, but then the ten second countdown begins and I roll my neck around, placing my hand on the locket around my neck and preparing myself for what is to come. Just as the cool, robotic voice finishes the countdown, I am launched upward. I blink furiously at the bright sunlight in the arena and quickly scan my surroundings.

Like every year, we are in the center of the arena, set up in a circle around a large metal structure that holds backpacks full of supplies, weapons, food, and many other things. I see Felix not too far from me. Annabel is only two people to my left. She is bouncing anxiously on her toes and I internally pray that she knows that we cannot move for thirty seconds. If any tribute steps off of their pad before the thirty seconds are up, they are blown to smithereens.

I notice a red backpack not too far in front of me, and I know if I can grab it without getting caught in the bloodbath, my next move will be to run into a wooded area to the east of the cornucopia. To the left of it is a jagged mountainous area, and beyond it appears to be a large field with remarkably tall grass. I have no idea what the arena looks like behind me, because I'm afraid that if I turn the wrong way I'll lose my balance and fall off of my platform before time is up.

Just as I think this to myself, the gong sounds. The Careers all sprint forward and immediately overtake the cornucopia, gathering weapons and supplies before ruthlessly going after the other tributes. I am stunned motionless as the boy from 2 slits the throat of a tribute from District 6, but then I am knocked down. Eyes wide, I look up and find the girl from 2 on top of me, grinning wickedly.

"I didn't expect you to be so easy to catch," she laughs, and I make a strangled sound of protest as her hand clenches around my throat. "You know, I find you very annoying. First all that drama about volunteering for your best friend because you just love her so damn much and then your unrequited love for your mentor. Your problem, 12, is that you have too many god damn feelings."

I let my instincts kick in, and I spit in her face. This causes her to loosen her hold on me for just a second, but in that second I am able to grab her wrists and push them away from my neck. I bend one of them at an unnatural angle and I hear it snap. She flinches and uses her other hand to grab at my hair, attempting to pull me back down so that she can get the upper hand. I am half-risen, and I kick her as hard as humanly possible in the gut. This effectively knocks the wind out of her and I revel in it before she has launched herself on me once again. We roll and roll over one another, neither one relenting and allowing the other to get the upper hand.

Somehow, and I have truly no idea how it happens, I land a blow to her face with my knee that leaves her face bloody and her nose most likely broken. The blood all over her pale skin is startling and it makes me nauseous, but I get up and snatch the backpack, running as fast as I possibly can into the woods. I have to leap over a body, and I nearly stop to vomit when I glance down and find the gaping, empty eyes of Felix. I don't stop until the dryness of my throat is so utterly painful that I feel like it's closing. Now I look around and try to gain my bearings. Shelter is my first goal, water is my second.

I hear footsteps approaching from somewhere behind where I've sat down on a large rock to catch my breath. I quickly jump behind it, attempting to quiet the sound of my breathing, which suddenly seems ridiculously loud. The footsteps get louder and louder, but eventually they pass. Before getting up, I realize that I haven't looked through the backpack that I managed to grab. Inside is a sleeping bag, a rope, an empty canteen, a vial of clear liquid that I know purifies water, and a book of matches. Unfortunately, there is no food, but I didn't expect there to be. I can possibly create a snare with the rope.

Suddenly, though, I realize that I am weaponless. I am in the arena with twenty three people who all want me dead, and I don't have a single weapon. Before I can panic about it, the anthem begins to play and I realize I must have been running into the woods for hours. The sky has darkened, and the images of the tributes that have died in the first day of the Games are projected onto the sky. Both tributes from 3, the girl from 4, the boy from 5, the boy from 6, both from 7, and the girl from 10. Felix is the last tribute to be shown, and I raise three fingers to my lips, lifting them up toward the sky. In our district, it's a sign used at funerals. It means goodbye.

I let out a sigh of relief as I realize that tiny little Annabel has made it through the first day. And then I realize that I have, too.

I know I need to find somewhere to rest for the night if I want to stay alive, so I scramble up a nearby tree. I use my best balance to slither into my sleeping bag and then tie myself into the tree so I don't fall out.

"Hey, Peyton," I say quietly. I hope the microphones are picking me up, and that the televisions across Panem are broadcasting me. I know that it's late at night; at least it is in the arena, but they tend to make our days go faster here and our nights last longer, so that viewers can catch the action during their waking hours. "I hope you're doing okay. I hope you're eating enough and keeping Nate in line, and I hope you're still getting tutored by Haley. I miss you a lot. And I just wanted you to know that. And that I'm doing everything I can to come back to you."

Then, I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.

After Brooke says goodbye, I return briefly to my room. I sit down on my bed and put my head in my hands, breathing slowly and trying to regain my composure before I get into my limo and head to the Mentor Station, where I will immediately begin trying to convince the wealthiest citizens of the Capitol to sponsor Brooke.

I flinch. In all of this, I have almost entirely forgotten my obligation to Felix, and I vow to make it up to him during the Games. I'll do my very best to send him supplies, but I know that if I have to make a choice, my resources will be going to Brooke.

I finally stand and wipe my hands on my slacks, checking my hair in the mirror and cringing when I see the circles below my eyes, and the bloodshot veins that paint pictures on the whites of my eyes. I contemplate using the special eyedrops given to me by my Capitol doctor, used to erase the physical evidence of my insomnia and nightmares, but I decide against it. The Capitol isn't going to have me today.

I go down to my waiting limo and paste my best grin on my face as I wave to the cameras. I'm stopped by a woman with cotton-candy hair and alarming yellow eyes.

"Lucas! What do you think of your tributes' odds this year?"

I give her my attempt at a charming grin. "Let's just say that I really think District 12 is going to have a victor this year."

She giggles excitedly and I say a polite goodbye, getting into the limo as the driver immediately speeds off toward the Mentor Station. I pull up and see more and more paparazzi. This time I ignore all questions and give them smiles and waves as I practically jog into the building.

"Lucas," I hear a voice call. I turn around and see Whitey, an older victor from District 4. I don't recall his exact Games, but I know that he won about twenty years before I did. He's an old hat at the mentor game, and has brought home more tributes than anyone else in history. He showed me the ropes my first couple of years, and I've always been grateful for it. I'm the only mentor without a partner, as my own mentor died shortly after my own victory.

"Good to see you, Whitey," I say genuinely, clapping him on the back. He scowls a little and sizes me up before leaning in close.

"Brooke," he says suddenly and quietly. "Brooke, she's your Camilla."

Camilla is Whitey's wife of almost 50 years. They married a year after he won, and they've been together ever since. Whitey's love for his wife is notorious. Once an attractive young man, his love story with Camilla became the inspiration for a Capitol film.

"I don't know if I would say that," I say honestly, "but I'm hoping to God I have a chance to find out, one way or the other."

Whitey gives me a look. "Son, there is no God in this place. Look around you."

He gives me another clap on the back as I scan the area, looking at all of the pageantry and excess.

"I hope the odds are in her favor, Scott."

He hobbles off back to his own station, and I take a deep breath, turning left and dodging the groups of potential sponsors. I'll start with them after I know that my tributes are safe.

I make my way into my control room and take off my suit jacket, loosening my tie and rolling up my sleeves. I sit in the large, plush arm chair in front of my controls, where there are 9 separate television screens. I can choose what areas of the arena I want to look at on these screens. Above them is one gigantic screen, where I can focus in on one particular area of interest. I have a gut feeling that Brooke will occupy that giant screen from beginning to end.

To my right is a computer that shows me my sponsor account, and allows me to pick what supplies I may want to send in to my tributes. As supplies become more critical to my tributes, whether it is their personal circumstances or a ploy of the Gamemakers, the prices of the supplies rise.

Just as I sit down, my screens flicker to life, the full screen immediately encompassed by the circle of launch pads around the cornucopia. I quickly scan the 9 smaller screens to get a better idea of the terrain of the arena.

"Ladies and gentleman, I present to you, the 74th Annual Hunger Games!" the announcer says, and then the 10 second countdown begins. In 10 seconds, I will see Brooke.

The tributes appear on their launch pads, and I locate Brooke quickly, scanning for Felix as well. I see Brooke glance over at Annabel and pray that she's not going to try to form an alliance. It's only going to hurt her in the end, and the target on Brooke's back as a result of all of her stunts is only going to hurt Annabel as well.

It seems like a lifetime before the gong sounds, and when it does, I hold my breath. Brooke is smart, and avoids the cornucopia just like I told her too. Felix, on the other hand, charges in. I want to watch Brooke, but I just have a feeling that Felix is not going to fair well in this fight, and he deserves for me to pay attention to his final moments. I haven't served him well as a mentor, but I can at least say that I did tell him not to do what he is doing.

I watch him grab a mace, only to be confronted by both male Careers. He takes a swing at them, but the male tribute from 2 simply cuts the chain of his mace with the ax in his hand, leaving Felix fairly defenseless. I want so badly to look away, but I can't. I have to watch.

Luckily, it is fairly merciful. The bloodbath deaths are, at the very least, quick. The Careers try to systematically kill as many other tributes as possible, and so they have to be fast and systematic. I watch the guy from 2 slit Felix's throat and swallow the lump in my throat. In my head, I apologize to Felix, and say goodbye.

I draw my eyes back to Brooke's camera, zooming it in on the larger screen. My hands grip the control station, my knuckles white. The girl from 2 is on top of her.

"Your problem, 12," she says, "is that you have too many goddamn feelings."

My heart feels like it's suddenly stopped, hammering in my chest in sporadic, hard beats. Brooke is pinned underneath the Career, completely trapped. I watch with baited breath and Brooke spits in the other girl's face, and I applaud her for her instincts. District 2's tribute falters just long enough for Brooke to grab at the wrists around her neck and I jump out of my seat and pump the air with my fist when she manages to snap the other girl's wrist. With a steady kick to the gut, Brooke is almost free. However, she takes a minute to compose herself, and that small moment is enough to allow District 2 to regain her position.

They roll around on the ground, grappling with each other. There is hair-pulling and scratching at faces and elbows flying everywhere. I can hardly see who is who, their dark hair seemingly blending into one long mane.

In the chaos of the scuffle, Brooke somehow manages to land a knee right to District 2's face, and there's a loud pop, indicating that she's probably broken her nose. I watch Brooke's hazel eyes momentarily widen at the sight of all of the blood before she realizes that she's about to make the same mistake that almost cost her dearly. She quickly stands, grasping her red backpack and running.

She nearly trips over a body, and bile rises in my throat as I realize that the body is Felix. Her hazel eyes widen and she pauses for a moment once again.

"Brooke," I plead with her, even though I know she can't hear me. "Brooke, keep going, come on."

She shakes her head sadly and continues her sprint, dashing into the wooded area of the arena. I wonder if she chose the forest simply because it's closest, or if she chose it because she's most familiar with that type of terrain. From what I understand, she goes out into the forest with Nathan Lee a lot; I'm not sure how often for sure, though. Half of me hopes that it's every day, and half of me hopes that it's almost never, because the idea of my half-brother spending extended periods of time in isolation with Brooke makes me a little nauseous. I berate myself for the thought, knowing that her survival depends on her ability to make her way through the woods.

She crashes into the woods and continues to run. I can tell that she's paying almost no attention to her surroundings, but it doesn't look like the woods have anything vicious in them yet. That will be saved for after the bloodbath, and as I glance down to my smaller screens, I see that it is far from over.

Brooke finally stops, sinking down onto a huge rock and putting her head between her knees, obviously trying to catch her breath. Suddenly, her head snaps up and I look around my screens. I find the large male tribute from 11, I think his name is Riley, and he's heading right for Brooke.

She doesn't wait to check who it is; she throws herself onto the other side of the rock, sitting on the ground and putting her hand over her mouth to keep her breathing quiet. I'm proud of her instincts, and I watch intently as Riley passes her right on bye. When she's sure that he's gone, she finally unzips her pack and looks inside. I'm glad for her haul, but I know that she's going to need to find some water and food very soon.

The anthem begins to play, and she looks up to watch the faces of the tributes that have died. She places three fingers to her lips and raises them up after Felix appears, and I get a little choked up. She's giving him the gesture of goodbye from our district, and on instinct, I do the same.

Then she starts talking, apparently speaking softly to Peyton. I quickly glance at the screen that shows what is being broadcasted, and I grin as I realize she is.

When her speech finishes, I hear a dinging sound and look at my computer.

$5,000 has been added to her sponsorship fund. I haven't even gone out to speak to the sponsors. Brooke's love for her friend, and her impressive instincts, have earned her that money in her own right. I click on it to see who donated it, and my blood nearly runs cold when I see that it's Nikki Smith, a young Capitol woman a few years older than myself with too much money to burn, most of which she likes to spend on nights with me.

There's a knock on the door, and I loudly tell whoever is on the other side to come in.

"Hey Luke," I hear a familiar voice say behind me.

"Hi Rachel," I say, standing up to embrace her. "How goes it?"

She rolls her eyes. "Both mine died today. So not great."

"I'm sorry, Rach."

"I figured you weren't paying much attention," she says, " seeing as you still have one left in the game."

I can tell that she's alluding to whatever I may or may not actually feel for Brooke. She'd won the Games the year before me, and we'd met on my Victory Tour. Underneath all of her showmanship and glamour is a lonely, sad twenty-one year old woman who had everything taken from her by the Capitol.

"Yeah," I say, equally careful with my words. "I've got a good one this year."

She knows what I mean, and she looks at me seriously. "Be careful with her. Watch her at all times, you don't want anything sudden to happen without being prepared."

She goes to leave after these cryptic words, but she throws some parting news over her shoulder.

'By the way, Nikki Smith is asking for you. So get to it."

Then she leaves, and I'm left with my stomach somewhere near my toes and feeling like lead.


	8. Chapter 8

BROOKE

The second morning of the Games, I wake just as the sun is rising. As much as I don't want to come down, I can feel the dryness of my throat and I'm beginning to get lightheaded. I need to find water, and fast. Sighing, I carefully untie myself and wriggle out of the bag, rolling it up small enough so it can go back in my pack. All I want is to stay in this tree until it's all over, hoping that the Careers will forget about hunting me down. But I know that if I do that, I'll die of dehydration, and I've never really been one to go out without a bang.

With that, I heave a sigh and scramble down to the ground, landing as softly as possible as I jump from the lowest branch. I take a deep breath through my nose and then make my way toward my right, into the more heavily wooded area and away from where I know the Cornucopia still stands, probably occupied by the Careers. If there is one thing that is consistent about the Games every year, it's that the Careers take over the Cornucopia.

I keep walking for what feels like miles, scanning the ground for familiar plants or for evidence of water, like mud. I keep my guard up, holding the rope in my hand in case I come across another tribute, seeing as I still don't have a weapon. I'm not entirely sure what I would do with the rope, but I figure it's better than nothing. As I walk, I rub the rope between two of my fingers and try to think of ways that I could use it. I keep my eyes peeled and remain alert, constantly looking to both of my sides, as well as above me and behind me.

Suddenly, I am outside of the forest and at the foot of the jagged mountains. There are no trees or bushes, simply grey slate. I stare up at it and do my best to listen. It could simply be my imagination, but I'm pretty sure that I can hear the sound of rushing water. I smile to myself and start to climb, gripping on to whatever I can fit my hands in. I've always been a fast climber, and my natural grace is serving me well as I trek up the mountain.

I've been climbing for about fifteen minutes when one of the pieces of rock I'm gripping onto breaks off and I scream, gripping as tightly as I can with my left hand. I glance down and realize that I'm dangling at least 50 feet off the ground, and below me is jagged, hard rock.

I let out a small noise of pain as the rock digs into my palm while I desperately grapple for something to hold onto. Each time my right hand makes contact with something, it either slips directly off or the slate crumbles under my fingers. My left hand and arm begin to tremble from holding up all of my weight, and it feels like the fingers on my left are going to break from the strain. I feel my hand beginning to slip, my fingers deciding against my will that it's time to relent. I close my eyes tightly and take a deep breath, giving it one more shot. I use all of my remaining strength to swing myself one more time.

Finally my hand grips into a decent handhold and I sigh in relief, my eyes filling with grateful tears as I quickly pull myself up to the decent-sized ledge that I'm beneath. I want to stop and collect myself, but I don't know if any other tribute heard me scream and followed the sound. I look above me and realize that the top of the mountain is a huge feat, and I'm not sure that I'll make it up there. The sound of the water is getting closer and closer, but I'm growing weaker and weaker, as I haven't had water in over twenty four hours, and my left arm still aches painfully.

I sit down, feeling disheartened. I lean my back against the mountain and stare down at the arena below me. From up here, it looks beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous, actually. I can see what looks like Annabel, leaping from tree to tree in the forest. I cross my fingers for her and think of her Peyton-green eyes. The thought of my best friend makes me smile to myself a little bit and I muster the courage to get back up and try again.

Just as I stand, I hear someone shout from below me.

"HEY! I FOUND 12!"

I look down quickly and about halfway to my ledge of the mountain is the colossal boy from District 1.

"What are you waiting for?" the girl from 2 snarls. "Start climbing!"

I watch as the four Careers begin traversing the mountain and I turn, scrambling to find a hold for my feet and hands. Once I do, I begin ascending the mountain as quickly as possible, but there's only so fast that I can get up a slab of hard stone mountain, especially with my left arm in its current condition. I can hear the Careers getting closer and closer, but I don't dare to look back. I continue to look forward, and soon I have reached another ledge, located slightly to my left.

I decide to stop for a moment and weigh my options. They aren't too far below me, and the rock directly above me looks almost completely smooth, which isn't ideal for climbing; lack of erosion means lack of places to hold myself up. On the other hand, the rock to my left looks decent for climbing, and I decide immediately to climb sideways for a while rather than up. I quickly grab hold of whatever I can and start edging around the side of the mountain.

To both my surprise and pleasure, I realize that the rushing sound of water has dramatically increased, and the rock is cool beneath my fingers now. I hear the Careers arguing from where two of them have reached the ledge.

"We're going to lose her cause of you!" the guy from 1 yells. "Come on, already! Get it together, would you!"

"You can go without us," the girl from 2 growls. She's not on the ledge yet, and she looks like she's struggling to make it up the mountain. "Get her. Just leave her alive so I can do the honors."

"No way, she's my kill," the guy from 2 says from where he stands beside the other boy. "When I win I want to be able to say I killed the girl with the perfect score."

The girl from 1 scoffs. "When you win? Please. She's mine."

I swallow the bile that rises in my throat and remind myself that if I pause, he or she really will kill me. I hope that they continue to fight over who gets to do the honors so that I can continue to make my escape and buy myself some more time.

I hear a scuffle on the ledge, which is now barely in my sight. I see the two boys start pushing each other just as the girls struggle to pull themselves up onto the ledge. I grin to myself and continue my side-climb, gasping as I realize a vague mist is spraying onto my face. I grin and start to climb upwards, where the rock is getting more and more damp as I go. I tread carefully as the rock becomes slicker under my fingers.

Finally, I grab on to a ledge above me and use all of my remaining strength to pull myself up. I gasp with the exertion but force myself to my feet and blink rapidly as I look at what is before me. It's a large, glittering lake with a waterfall pouring into it from higher up inside the mountain wall. I can see a couple of caves behind the stream of water, and I take a moment to revel in how beautiful it is before I grab my water bottle and purifier out of my pack and fill a bottle up, putting in one drop of the clear liquid that will clean my water. I quickly chug it and then fill it up again, drinking more slowly this time. I can hear the Careers clambering up behind me and I panic.

If I jump in the water and swim to the caves behind the waterfall to hide, my clothes will get wet and I could get extremely ill. On the other hand, I have no weapons and there are four of them and one of me. Not only that, but they've been born and raised to kill weaklings like me. I rack my brain in an attempt to think of something, anything I can do, but I can hear them gaining on me.

I take a deep breath and quickly pull my top off from over my head. Partial nudity isn't something uncommon in the Games, but I can imagine Nathan groaning and covering his eyes. As I start to wriggle out of my pants, I look up to where I think the camera is and wink.

"Sorry, Nate," I say with a breathy laugh. The water is cold and crisp on my skin, and the weightless feeling of being in the water is extremely pleasant on my aching body. I hold my clothes and shoes over my head while I swim. It's slow going, but I'm moving quickly enough. I'm suddenly supremely glad for my leg strength, as I can only use one arm to help propel myself forward.

As I reach the side of waterfall, I hear someone trying to pull themselves up onto the peninsula with a heaving grunt. I slip between the waterfall and the rock, successfully keeping my clothing dry. When I make it behind the water, I see that the system of caves is more intricate than I originally thought, and lucky for me, there is a mossy net hanging from the ceiling. I scramble in to the smallest cave and pull the net over the opening, successfully camouflaging myself into my surroundings.

I hear the Careers' warped voices through the steady rush of the waterfall, and I press my ear against my damp moss cover to hear them.

"Where the hell did that little bitch go?" I hear the girl from 2 growl. I wrack my brain for her name, finally remembering that her name is Amethyst. I'm fairly certain her male district partner is named Quartz, and the girl from 1 is Crystal. Try as I might, I can't remember the boy from District 1's name. I feel my blood run a little cold as I realize this is probably for the best.

"There aren't many places to hide over here," Crystal supplies, peering around. She's right. The area around the waterfall is wide open, filled with lush grass and a few small rocks. "Maybe she's under water."

"Well, if she is," Quartz says, and I can hear the malicious grin in his voice, "little fishy is going to have to come up sometime."

"Wait a second," I hear Amethyst say. I curse her for being the brains of the operation. "Look behind the waterfall. Is there anything back there?"

The guy from 1 walks over and I hear him say "No, it only looks like a cave. Just a bunch of moss, though."

"We might as well set up camp here," Crystal says. "She's got to be around here somewhere, and eventually she'll have to light a fire or eat."

I curse under my breath. She's right. When night comes, my tiny, damp cave is going to become extremely cold, and from the short time that I've spent in it, I can tell it's also going to become fairly claustrophobic. I have no food. The only bright side is that I'm currently sitting inside of a water source.

Just as I begin to think about this, my stomach cramps in hunger. I don't remember how long it's been since I've eaten. I know it must have taken me hours to get from the forest to where I am now, but I don't know what time of day it is. The Careers begin to eat food from their packs noisily, probably in an effort to lure me out.

But I have a skill that they lack; I know how to be hungry, and I know how to survive it.

That's the last thought that goes through my head as I wait for my bra and underwear to dry before putting my clothes back on, because just as I finish the thought, something grabs ahold of my ankle. I don't even have a chance to scream before I'm pulled into the ice cold water.

LUCAS

The second day of the Games, I'm drawn out of my control room early, again by Nikki Smith. After Rachel had brought me out last night, she had offered to donate another $3,000 if I would spend the evening with her. The thought had made me sick, even more so than normal, because before Brooke, I'd never actually had someone else to care about. It never felt like I was betraying anyone, except maybe the last shreds of my self respect.

When I awoke in the morning in her bed, I had scrambled out as quickly as I could without waking her and immediately went to the Mentor Center. The bedroom attached to my control room has a decent sized shower, so I cleaned myself up and changed into a new suit.

When I exited my room, having scrubbed myself raw to feel clean again, I barely had time to watch Brooke wake before I was called to restaurant a couple floors up, where sponsors mingle, eat, and drink. I then spent a couple of miserable hours charming anyone I came in contact with, trying to catch glimpses of the large screens broadcasting the Games.

Brooke wasn't shown for a while; instead, two tributes brutally teamed up on another, and her death was the focus. After that, though, the shot suddenly changed to the mountain, where Brooke was tangling from one hand, desperately trying to get a hold of something to hoist herself back up. Fear gripped at me and I pushed it down, trying to maintain collected.

"Looks like your girl is in trouble," Nikki says, almost sneering. "Shame she's going to die, she's a pretty thing. I know a lot of men hear who would have paid good money for her."

I grit my teeth for a moment before turning to her, and all of the other potential sponsors sitting at the table with us. "Just wait. Brooke's an amazing climber, she'll be fine."

Just as I say this, she manages to get herself up onto a ledge, and I quietly sigh my relief. I turn back to the others at hand, noting that they all look mildly impressed with her success. I manage to get another thousand dollars out of a rather large man with lavender colored hair and a pink goatee, before Nikki suddenly grins and claps excitedly.

"The Careers have finally found her!" Nikki gasps, looking like a child on Christmas morning. It turns my stomach, and I'm about to snap when a hand touches my shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," Rachel's voice says warmly. "But Lucas is needed for some important mentor duties. I'll return him to you as soon as possible."

Her smile is sweet and collected, but behind her eyes is a cold rage. Somehow, this slips by the Capitol idiots, who all smile at her and bid me farewell. As soon as the doors close behind us, we're both running down the hall to the elevator to get back to my command room, where I can panic in peace.

"She's going to be okay," Rachel murmurs to me. "She has to be."

"What do you even care?" I snap at her. I almost regret it, but I'm too stressed out to care.

"Because," Rachel says, choosing her words with care. "Brooke Davis is the first tribute to enter that arena that did it to protect somebody that she loves. She's the only person who's ever voluntarily gone in there not for themselves but for somebody else, and I've got to believe that there's a chance, some crazy chance, that there's more than one of her out there. And that she's going to be the key to finding them."

If the Capitol is listening, Rachel just got herself into some serious trouble. I spontaneously pull her into a hug as we enter the elevator. When we reach my floor, she gives me a sad smile.

"I've got to go," she says. "Cooper Lee is waiting for me, and you know he doesn't like to wait."

She pushes another button and I watch the elevator shoot upward, bursting into my command center just in time to see Brooke pulled under water. I shoot forward, staring at the screen with wide eyes.

"BROOKE! NO!"

There are no cameras under water, so it's impossible to tell what grabbed her or what's happening down there. The water seems completely still for what feels like ages, but what the clock tells me is less than that, before her hand suddenly shoots out of the water. It grazes the side of the walls next to her, but doesn't grab hold and is rapidly pulled back underneath.

"Brooke, no," I mumble to myself, dragging my hands over my face and letting them rest over my mouth.

The camera pans from the still water to the Careers, on the other side of the lake.

"Did you hear that?" the male from District 2 says. A pop-up on the broadcast screen reminds me that he's named Quartz. He bends near the water and stares at it closely. "It's moving."

"What is?" barks his district partner, Amethyst. She pushes her way next to him and glares down at the water before nodding briskly. "What do you know, dumbass, you're right."

Amethyst grins maliciously, plunching her hand into the water and fishing around. "Where are you, 12? Come out, come out, wherever you are."

Just like Brooke, she is suddenly pulled into the water, only she has a chance to grab hold of her partner and drag him in with her. The tributes from District 1 obviously don't want to take any chances, and they back away from the water and stare at it in shock.

"What do you think is in there?" Crystal asks her partner.

"I sure as hell don't want to find out."

Something, or rather someone, floats to the surface, and the camera automatically zones in on the bloodied body of Quartz, floating face down in the water, and a cannon sounds, signifying his death. The girl from 1 screams, and her partner simply shakes his head slowly. I feel a huge amount of guilt for the relief that floods my body when I realize that Brooke isn't dead. Then it dawns on me that she hasn't resurfaced, either, and the cuts on the body of the other tribute make my stomach turn. Whatever is down there did that to him, and Brooke is down there, too.

As this thought crosses my mind, she suddenly erupts from the water, flailing and gasping desperately. The crisp water around her is clouded with blood, but she manages to drag herself onto the shore. Luckily, the Careers from 1 are distracted by Amethyst, who has been tossed out onto the ground, bleeding profusely from a heavily damaged leg, which holds on by only a few ligaments. Her skin is extremely pale, and it's obvious that she's lost a huge amount of blood.

Brooke looks as though she may be faring better, but not by much. Her clothes are still in the cave, beyond the waterfall, and her exposed skin is covered in bleeding, lash-like cuts. She lays gasping on the ground, groaning in pain and coughing up water, but she's alive.

I stare at my screen and see that after her little strip show, her account has a significant increase in 0's. As happy as I am that I have a chance to help her, my stomach also turns at the implications of what may happen to her if she wins. Regardless, I scroll through my available options.

As much as I want to send her medicine or clothes, she's currently injured with two Careers in plain sight of her. I quickly look through the weapons I can send her. The knives are a little out of my price range; I don't want to spend all of her money on that, and later have her die of dehydration or infection. She's lost all of her survival supplies now. As soon as she gets away from the Careers, I can send her a shirt and some pants, maybe even some first aid materials for her cuts.

I decide that the knives aren't an option, and I try to remember what other skills she had. I know she said she wasn't that good with one, but the bow and arrow is the only option, so I quickly type in the necessary passwords and select it, watching the $3,000 drain from the account.

I turn my eyes to my television screen, and watch happily as the parachute with a large silver box attach lands beside Brooke just as the cannon for Amethyst rings out in the air. She blinks, obviously confused as she opens it and finds nothing to help her pain, but instead, a weapon.

Despite her cuts, her reflexes haven't weakened. She quickly snatches it and strings an arrow, holding it in front of herself as the two Careers descend on her.

"What was down there?" the boy barks.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Brooke sasses, but it comes out in a wheeze. Her eyes remain both hard and glittering, and a small smile plays on my lips.

"What killed them?" the girl screams, holding up a large metal bar with several spikes on it.

Brooke shoots the girl a patronizing grin. "How do you know it wasn't me, sweetheart?"

And then she shoots an arrow into her shoulder, causing Crystal to drop her weapon. The male tribute attempts to go at her with a knife, but she quickly trips him up, and when he falls, she manages to snatch the fallen knife and quickly stab him in his thigh, yanking it out, grabbing her new weapons, and darting back toward the waterfall.

"What are you doing, Cheery?" I murmur.

She makes it to the waterfall and begins scaling it, her bow and quiver over her shoulder and the knife in her mouth. When she reaches the waterfall, she fearlessly plunges behind it, sticking her knife into the wall and using it to keep her body out of the water, holding onto it tightly as she swings back into her small cave along the wall. She scrambles to the back of it, wriggling into her clothes, finally wincing and letting out a few painful hisses of air as she closes her eyes tightly.

"Just leave her," Crystal grits out. "Let's go back down to Camp before somebody takes all of our crap." Her partner nods and they begin making their way back down the mountain.

Brooke grins to herself in the cave, tying up her shoes and using the same tactics to make her way back to the safety of the land.

She lies back, panting again and ripping her clothes off once again, because they're soaking with blood. She takes one sip of her water, which she has gotten ahold of again, and then uses the minimal amount needed to clean her cuts.

I quickly go to my command computer and send her a first aid kit and one small serving of food, which I know she must desperately need at this point. When they land beside her she lets out a hysterical laugh of happiness.

"Thank you, Luke!" she gushes, snapping open her kit and quickly applying disinfectant, following it with the healing cream which instantly closes her cuts. She smiles in relief and scrambles back into her clothes before opening up the small bag, which holds a sandwich, some jerky, a soft cookie, and a small jug of water.

"You are the best," she beams, slowly eating the sandwich, taking a few sips of water, and then storing the cookie and jerky, along with the remainder of her fresh water, in her pack.

"By the way!" Brooke says loudly, obviously for the viewers. "What's in there? Yeah, it's a big-ass lizard thing. Lotsa arms, big long tail, scary teeth. Oh, and the teeth? Yeah, on the arms."

Then she looks toward the nearest camera, tosses her soaking hair over one shoulder, and gives the most sparkling grin I've ever seen anyone in the arena give. "Oh, and I killed it."

Then she gives an almost comical wink and says, "Thanks for those scary sharp rocks, Gamemakers. Don't know what I'd do without you."

And with that, she picks herself up, throws on her backpack and quiver, attaching her knife to her belt before she jogs over and begins scaling the mountain upward, leaving the waterfall behind her.


End file.
